


The Goblet of Serpens

by Deliahscrush2003



Series: Children of Prophecy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bigotry & Prejudice, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Consensual Underage Sex, Crushes, Drama, Eventual Romance, Fix-It of Sorts, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Good Slytherins, Grief/Mourning, Gryffindor, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff Pride, Hufflepuffs Smoke Marijuanna, Hufflepuffs are Good Finders, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Multi, Promises, Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw Pride, Slytherin, Slytherin Pride, Slytherins Always Repay Their Debts, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Veela Mates, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24316240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deliahscrush2003/pseuds/Deliahscrush2003
Summary: A What If AU: Cassius Warrington's name was drawn from the Goblet of Fire instead of Cedric Diggory's.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Blaise Zabini/Original Female Character(s), Cassius Warrington/Original Female Character(s), Fleur Delacour & Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour & Viktor Krum, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger & Viktor Krum, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil, Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood, Neville Longbottom/Original Female Character(s), Padma Patil/Original Female Character(s), Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Series: Children of Prophecy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755466
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This a What If AU of what I think would happen if Cassius Warrington's name was drawn from the Goblet of Fire instead of Cedric Diggory. This fic was inspired by the tumblr thread that I think everyone at least knows about. I don't know who started it but this fic was influenced and based on their thread, so if anyone knows, please leave it in the comments so I can give credit where it's due.  
> \- I do not claim to own any of the canon material in this fic, only the original characters and plot although the plot is influenced by the magnificent ideas and prompts of others.

#### 1st Year

Draco Malfoy had just settled his luggage into the compartment, a nice, clean empty space that would do just nicely for a pureblood son. He smiled to himself before settling at the window seat, allowing himself the privilege of leaning against the window without being scolded by his parents for lacking decorum. He closed his eyes, enjoying the non-existent chatter and the sound of the train chugging out of King’s Cross Station. 

For some reason, he found himself wanting to be by himself for a while. Since arriving at King’s Cross Station, his excitement for his first year at Hogwarts turned into agitation and a need to find **something**. Not something he had lost, because his mother was very thorough and made two lists of what he needed to pack, but rather something he had yet to find. His limbs twitched in a need to move, causing his cheeks to warm. 

_Malfoys did not get nervous._

_Malfoys did not fidget._

_Malfoys did not show their eagerness nor their apprehension._

He just needed to compose himself before he met with his friends. 

The abrupt opening of the compartment door had him sighing as his peace was disrupted. 

“Crabbe, Goyle,” he said in greeting without turning around. 

“Malfoy, nice compartment! 

“Smart choice, mate. Away from all them other losers!” 

_Away from everyone_ , Draco thought to himself as he rolled his eyes. 

“Draco, you didn’t think you could hide from us, did you?” a faux innocent voice giggled from the door of the compartment. Pansy Parkinson smirked as she waltzed in like _she_ picked the compartment before falling gracefully next to him, “I commend you on your effort, Draco but you forgot about that broch me and Blaise gifted you for your birthday – a broch charmed with a _tracing_ spell.” 

The blonde boy glared at his friend, “Forgive me, Pansy, for forgetting how clingy you are.” 

Pansy pretended to think on it before smiling in cheek, “Forgiven.” 

“Hey mate, I forgot we didn’t take the charm off. Had no idea she was using it to track you down. I thought it was just her obsession with you that fueled her bloodhound traits.” 

Blaise Zabini grinned from the doorway, swiftly dodging Pansy’s attempts to hit him with her suitcase, while Theodore Nott smiled silently next to him, enjoying the scene they were both making. 

Pansy huffed at the tall Italian boy in front of her and stomped her foot in frustration, “Merlin, Blaise, can you for once not be such an annoying twerp!” 

“Twerp, Pansy?” Blaise raised an eyebrow, “That's the best you could come up with?” 

Pansy crossed her arms and snubbed him by sticking her nose up in the air, “A pureblood lady is dignified enough that she doesn't resort to the vulgar tones of men!” 

“A pureblood lady is dignified enough that she doesn’t resort to causing a scene when she is offended. Now all of you sit down and close that door,” Draco drawled lazily, a hand on his head implicating a headache was coming on. Not a rare occurrence when he was around Pansy, he found. Although it usually came a little later in her presence. 

They did as he asked – sensing when Draco was in a mood was a skill they had all developed from years of friendship with the boy - and settled in, going about making themselves comfortable in soft murmurs leading the blonde boy to believe he might gain back the peace he had before. Until once again, the compartment door flew open. 

“ ** _What is it now?!_** ” he grunted in frustration, his head swinging towards the door, hands clutching his head as it started throbbing like mad. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here.” 

Standing in the corridor was a girl. A short one, no taller than Pansy meaning Draco would be a good two inches taller than her, with hair full of bushy, dark brown curls and large brown eyes that widened as she took them all in. 

Draco’s jaw dropped. His stomach twisted and his mouth went dry as he stared at the girl, forgoing all common curtesy. Her brown face was plain and unblemished and her chin, which was held up despite his friends' scrutiny, had a little scar long faded into a white line. Why the hell did he feel like his knees had been kicked out?! She wasn’t beautiful like his mother, or elegant like Pansy’s. Merlin’s beard, Pansy with her unfortunate pig nose was more attractive then her! So, why did his chest cave in at the sight of her? 

Pansy’s face turned blank as she took in the girl, her relaxed smile and posture now stiffening as the stranger tried to find the words she was looking for, “Did you need something?” 

The strange girl shook her head and smiled nervously at them, “Oh yes, I was wondering if any of you had seen a toad anywhere? A boy, Neville, has lost his.” 

“And you offered to find the lost creature and return it to him, yes?” Blaise smirked, as his eyes flashed from Draco to Pansy. Theo sighed knowing a bet was coming. 

The girl blushed shyly but continued to hold her own, “Yes.” 

Pansy glared at Blaise before answering the girl, “There is no toad in here. If there was, we wouldn’t be here.” 

The girl nodded in understanding, “Thank you. And I'm sorry for barging in.” 

\- 

Later, as Draco and his friends stood waiting as their fellow first years were sorted into their respective houses, he found his attention trained on the bushy haired girl as she was called up to get sorted. 

“Granger, Hermione.” 

“ **GRYFFINDOR!** ” 

_Granger_ , he thought in disgust. That explains it! She’s a muggle-born. That must be why he was so sick on the train. His father told him about how those dirty, thieving muggle-born abominations didn’t belong. If there was one thing he had always been certain of, it would be the purity of the old lines of wizards and the impurity that was the abnormities which are muggle-borns. His eyes narrowed as the witch – _if he could even call her that_ – smiled and made her way to the Gryffindor table. As if sensing his glare, she turned her head and met his eyes, her smile once so bright now faltering in the face of his disdain. He found it appeared once again when _**Potter**_ and **_Weasley_** – as he was now referring with hatred as you would with your arch-nemesis – joined her. 

Although it confused and disturbed him to no end, the sight of seeing her smiling sweetly at the two boys made his blood boil. He reasoned that he just hated them all, but he knew deep down it was different. _She_ was different. 

\- 

#### 2nd Year

“You’ll be next, **mudblood!** ” 

Draco spat out those words with as much hate as he could muster and forced himself to take pleasure in the way she flinched at the word. 

To her credit, the girl merely composed herself before turning her friends away from him, Weasley and Potter looking like two rabid dogs on a leash as they growled at him. Draco turned away from the trio, gut clenching at the glimpse of Granger’s hand clasping the boy’s shoulders before he turned his attention on his friends, throwing his head back laughing despite the chill in his blood. 

The blood still ran fresh down the walls, the threat that the Chamber of Secrets had been open plain for all to see. He remembered tales of the Chamber, his father indulging him in all the secret nooks of the old school before his first year. And despite the protection his house and blood status provided him, he couldn’t help but feel the slight shiver than ran up his spine, the eeriness of the blood clotted words following him and his friends back to the Slytherin dorms that night. 

_**The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, Beware.**_

That night, when he lay amongst the fine silken sheets of his bed, he found himself wide awake until the early hours of the morning, the words of warning on the wall and the words he spat at Granger blurring until they became one in the same. Bile crept up his throat at the realization that they **were** one in the same. 

A warning. A warning about what was to come. 

\- 

Weeks after, Granger turned up petrified, the fifth victim of whatever dark force was let out when the Chamber was opened. Draco had snuck into the infirmary that night, standing over her to stare into those glassy, unblinking eyes that stared back beyond him. He sneered in derision at seeing her like that, so unaware of him standing there. It angered him that she was unable to feel fear, to feel anger, to feel all the things she usually felt when they were standing at opposite sides of the hall from each other. She couldn’t flinch, couldn’t shoot glares at him, couldn’t quip something so smart yet so _infuriating_ and it pissed him off to no end. 

“Really, Granger?” he whispered mockingly as he sat himself down at the end of her bed, careful not to speak to loudly less he rouse the attentions of Madam Promfrey from the room adjacent, “For such a know-it-all swot, you made it very easy for the thing to take you down.” 

Unmoving. Unflinching. Unaware, she remained. 

Draco leaned forward, wrapping his robe around him tighter as he sneered at the immobile girl. 

“You think you're bloody invincible, you Gryffindors. You think you're greater than the rest of us! Look at you now, Granger! You’re at your most vulnerable, anyone can come in here and hex you to bits and you wouldn’t even _know_ it. Look how far your _bravery_ and _chivalry_ have gotten you.” 

“Who’s there?” Promfrey’s voice called out from the next room, sending panic racing through Draco’s veins as he scrambled off the bed and out of the infirmary. 

When he returned to the safety of his dorm, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle all snoring softly, he let out the breath he had been holding the whole way down to the dungeons. Clasping his chest as he breathed in and out, he settled himself on his bed in exhaustion. He didn’t know what possessed him to act like that, to sneak out after curfew and to sit at the mudblood’s bed. It was idiotic, beyond stupid to spit words at her when she couldn’t even hear them. His words were heard by deaf ears and it pissed him off. 

“You better hope Potter comes through for you, Granger,” his lips mouthed to himself, teeth gritted in annoyance as he glared through the roof to where he thought the petrified witch would be, “Wouldn’t want you stuck like that forever. Merlin, knows Gryffindor would lose the House Cup this year without you to win them house points.” 

It wasn’t until minutes later on the brink of sleep, that Draco realized he inexplicably complimented the Gryffindor and wanted nothing more than to wash his mouth out with soap afterwards. 

\- 

#### 3rd year

“God, this place is going to the dogs,” Draco muttered loudly, eyes narrowed on the fool they tried to pass for a teacher, “That oaf teaching classes, my father’ll have a _fit_ when I tell him – “ 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Potter’s voice snapped from the front, next to Granger and Weasley. 

That was the second time the prat tried to tell Draco what to do and while he might have let it slip past him the first time, he wasn’t going to let him get away with it again. 

Draco started forward, followed loyally by Crabbe, Goyle and Nott who had his back as he approached the Gryffindor trio maliciously while the big oaf behind them was distracted with whatever he was hoping to pass off as a lesson. 

“What did you say to me, _Potter_?” 

The boy with the unruly jet black hair spun around to face him, jaw clenched in annoyance as he repeated through gritted teeth, “I said, _shut up_.” 

Instead of retorting with any of his usual threats, Draco instead found great amusement in another idea that slithered into his mind, eyes darting to a space just behind Potter’s head with something akin to terror as he pointed a finger, crying out, “Dementor, dementor!” 

The kids standing with Potter all spun around, Scarhead’s eyes widening in dread as he tried to search for the thing he was rumored to fear above all else, even the Dark Lord. 

With them distracted, Draco flipped up the hood of his robes so that it covered his pale hair, his housemates doing the same, giggling mockingly at the Gryffindor’s fear. Potter turned around to face the Slytherins, shoulders slumping as he realized he had fallen for Draco’s trick as he stared at them with dark, cold eyes. The platinum blonde 

Slytherin watched with a curl to his lips as Granger charged up to Potter, hands reaching out for her friend’s shoulders and turning him back to the front but no without pulling a face at Draco and the Slytherins with a roll to her eyes. Draco grinned back at her, eyes flashing with malice as he followed the retreating duo over to the stone wall. 

The swot had a lot of nerve, always had and always will. He thought after last year’s debacle she would come to understand she was not as strong or brave as she thought she was but clearly, despite somehow maintaining top in their year, she still retained the arrogance her house was famous for. What a waste. Her unfortunate blood status aside, if she had been sorted into Ravenclaw, she would have made up for her disadvantages quite nicely. 

\- 

_That little –_

Blood spurted from his nose, staining the black, dragonhide gloves his mother had gifted him during the Yule holidays as Draco, Nott and Goyle sprinted away from where they left the Gryffindors on the top of the hill, overlooking the oaf’s hut on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. 

Goyle had suggested that they overlook the execution of that brute of a beast that mauled him, slinging a meaty arm around Draco’s shoulders, and walking over to the grassy hilltop. They had crouched behind the large stones that rose from the ground; the two boys next to him making jokes about how Weasley ran like a girl or how they’d be able to see Granger coming a mile away because of the unruly mass of curls she called hair. 

_Granger_ , Draco seethed silently, threatening both of his dorm mates into silence as they made their way inside the castle. He regretted ever thinking there was ever hope for that little savage! That violent, little swot with her muggle methods of pain. A proper witch would never dare raise a hand to convey her anger and would rarely give in enough to raise her wand. 

Her temper would be her downfall, her dirty upbringing would always let her down. 

As Draco leaned against the ledge while Goyle and Nott argued over who would perform the Episkey – _For Salazar sake, don’t let it be Goyle_ – he glanced back over his shoulder to where he could see Granegr cradling her hand gingerly. The satisfaction that rose within him was beneath him and was gone as quick as it appeared as he sighted her smile from where he sat. 

He watched her through cold eyes as she skipped out of his sight, his own gloved fist clenching in his lap as Nott readied himself in front of him, wand an inch from his nose. Draco bit down the urge to flinch, having been taught that it was weakness for a Malfoy to be found at the end of anyone’s wand but he had other thoughts to occupy his mind. 

Nott did him the curtesy of not counting down, the quick snapping of his nose back into place ringing through Draco’s head and sending tingles through his skull as he fought back a cry. Instead, he focused on Granger. On his hatred, his outrage, his anger, his resentment. His weakness for ever hoping that she could be more than her kind. That weakness that somehow only grew within him, a piece of his ruin pride unable to ignore her ferocity, her strength and her prowess. 

A fleeting thought came and disappeared in the blink of an eye, slipping through the fingers of his mind and sending tendrils of shock throughout his soul. 

_Merlin, can Granger throw a punch._


	2. A Dark Night Makes A Darker Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the scene above that made Harry, Hermione and the Weasley clan still in disgust and terror. For floating above the jeering crowd was four figures, pale in the fire light as their bodies levitated and contorted to the crowd’s pleasure. 
> 
> Harry saw Ron’s face twist into a snarl as one of the smaller figures was tipped upside down, spinning in a way that would make a child sick if they weren’t unconscious and suspended. Ginny echoed her brother’s sentiment, her hand finding Hermione’s and squeezing tight. And Hermione, his best friend….
> 
> In all the things Harry and his friends had faced in the past, he had never seen Hermione as afraid as she was at that moment. Watching the child spin and spin and spin. It was when he realized. 
> 
> “They’re muggles,” the ghastly whisper from Hermione’s mouth confirming his own fears. Ron and Harry exchanged a look. If wizards would do that to muggles, what would they do if they found a muggle born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I know that I started this fic a while ago and then I left it like a dead thing on the side of the road but I'm here to work my magic to bring it back to life!  
> A few notes:  
> \- This work is heavily based off of canon so it is with a heavy heart I must credit the author, JK Rowling for any canon materials I have used in this chapter (HINT: it is mostly hers but we can pretend it was all mine if you want ;)) - (Or NOT, dont want to get sued, I am just kidding and credit is where credit's due).  
> \- While this is heavily canon compliant, it will not stay that way and hints of divergency are planted throughout this entire chapter just to give you an idea of how I plan to diverge away from canon in the future and how I plan to comply with it.  
> \- There will be no Ron bashing in my swamp. We love each and everyone one of our babies - unlike a certain creator/author who will not be named because again, I don't want to be sued. Anyway, I realized in both the books and the movies Ron is dumbed down for someone who spent his life living in the Wizarding World. He is also a loyal friend with a strong heart so I decided to honor all three of those in this fic. Don't like it? The back button is somewhere on your screen. You know how to push it.  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter and if you have any questions, feedback, criticism or comments you would like to make, jot it down in the comment button down below and I will make sure to answer them to my greatest ability!

#### 18th August, 1994 - The 422nd Quidditch World Cup

Harry watched amused as the Weasleys’ sat about the tent and chatted eccentrically, a playful argument soon rising about the match and the outcome – the golden coins glittering on the table bringing to attention that the twins had no quarrels with how it ended – when the youngest promptly Weasley fell asleep right there at the table, her hot coco spilling everywhere. Harry noticed how it made it onto her arms and hair, lurching forward unconsciously to try to – maybe wipe it off her before it burned her skin? It seemed like Ginny was too exhausted to notice, her father quickly conceding that the night was over and that it was time to sleep. 

He and Hermione went over to the table to shake Ginny awake, his best friend gently pulling the tired girl up. He smothered a grin at Ginny’s sleepy drawl, “Leave me in it. It was warm.” 

Hermione shook her head affectionately at the younger girl, throwing an arm around her waist and a “Night, Harry” over her shoulder. He turned around before seeing Ginny’s head shoot up in alarm and embarrassment, retiring to the bunks that he shared with Ron and the rest of the boys. Now that the excitement of the games died down, he felt the same exhaustion Ginny must have felt sink in. 

The boisterous music – probably of the Irish – could be heard from tents away and Harry could hear Mr. Weasley muttering sleepily from the bunks about how he was glad he wasn’t on duty, so he didn’t have to tell the Irish to stop celebrating. 

With that final statement, Harry found sleep quite easily, with thoughts of perfecting the Wronski Feint evolving into a dream of his stadium entrance and the announcement of his name followed by bright lights and the roar of the crowd, “ **POTTER!** ” 

\- 

In the next tent, Ginny was now wide awake and hiding her face in the shirt she took off – said shirt was completely drenched in hot chocolate. 

“I _can’t_ believe I did that! I fell asleep, spilt my drink and then tried to make you _leave me in it_ – all in front of **_HARRY!_** ” she groaned into the fabric, knowing Hermione would still be able to understand the muffled words. Said girl was on the other side of the tent, changing into her pajamas and content on letting the Weasley girl go through the motions of her embarrassment until it became apparent that Ginny could go all night with troubling herself over something Hermione knew didn’t even _faze_ Harry. 

She was fond of the younger girl, having spent a handful of times over the past years amongst the Weasley clan. As the only female beside Ginny spending the summers there, they grew close and founded a friendship that grew stronger the more they spent time together. Therefore, she had been present for most of the chatter that revolved around the girl’s affections for her best friend. 

Affections, that Hermione _personally_ thought, got in the way of the girl’s potential to express herself in any other way besides a girl crushing on a boy. She knew Ginny was more than that. She knew that growing up the youngest and the only girl amongst boys, she grew up tough and more than able to hold her own. That she knew just as much about Quidditch as Ron – probably even _more_. 

Unfortunately, any sign of independent personality vanished when Harry was around, leaving behind an awkward and flustered girl that couldn’t get two words out before Ron swooped in and took Harry for a mini-quidditch match in the backyard or a chess match in his bedroom. 

Hermione took it upon herself to give some advice she had hesitated upon sharing for some time until now. 

“Gin, have you thought about focusing more on _yourself_ rather than focusing on Harry?” 

Ginny’s groaning stopped, her head peering over the clothes in her hand. Her face now featured none of the embarrassment she previously felt and wore only a carefully guarded expression. 

“What do you mean?” 

Hermione sighed. 

_How can I put this?_

“Right now, you are so caught up in your crush and constantly worried about what your wearing, what your saying, how your saying it that it _completely_ escapes you that Harry only knows you by your awkwardness and your relationship within your family,” Hermione folded herself down on the floor next to her, scooting close so that she she could whisper, “Therefore the answer to why Harry doesn’t see you as anything more than Ron’s sister is simple: because you don’t offer him anything more than that whenever your around.” 

Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed as she nodded, “I think I understand. But if that’s the case, what do I do so that he notices me?” 

Hermione internally rolled her eyes. She was kind of hoping the girl would lay off the idea of grabbing Harry’s attention altogether, at least until she was older and had a chance to grow more into herself. She felt a light bulb switch on in her head and sat up determinedly. 

“What if the solution is to just be you?” she smiled. Ginny gave her a blank stare. 

_You’re going to have to elaborate a bit more on this._

“Try _distancing_ yourself from Harry, stop thinking of him like a boy that you fancy and more like your friend or at least like your brother’s friend. Focus more on yourself, on your studies, on your friends – maybe even other boys. Or don’t. Focus on what interests you. With your skills and knowledge of quidditch, you could be joining your brother’s and Harry on the team by next year.” 

“So, you’re saying I should _give up_ on him?” Ginny looked as if she wasn’t a fan of the idea. Hermione thought she was spot on. Especially about her focusing on her studies – studies are more important than boys. 

“Think of it as putting him on hold. You’re young and talented. Tough and strong. Fierce and full of potential. Liking a guy doesn’t change it but it does when you’re so focused on showing him how your attractive and approachable that you forget about the stuff that _really_ matters.” 

“What’s that?” 

Hermione smiled and pulled the girl to her feet, “ _You_.” 

She turned around and climbed into her cot and pulled the covers over her shoulders. She heard Ginny shuffling to her bags and quickly changing into her pajamas before moving to the cot beside hers. Ginny blew the candles out before settling in, murmuring ‘ _Move on_ ’ as if trying to remind herself. Hermione fell asleep to the murmurs and felt more pride each time they grew more determined in tone. 

\- 

“ **EVERYBODY WAKE UP NOW!** ” 

Mr. Weasley’s voice boomed through the tent, as he threw on his clothes and robes, grabbing his wand and charging through the rooms. 

“ _Get up!_ Ron – Harry – come on now, _get up_ , this is **urgent!** ” 

The two boys jerked up, Harry already frantically putting on his glasses while Ron – in a much less frantic manner – rubbed his eyes. Harry heard Ron ask his father what was the matter. 

A few minutes later, they had their answer as they huddled with the rest of the Weasleys’ outside the tent. The few fires left burning illuminated the chaos ensuring. People running every which way, mostly into the darkness of the forest surrounding the camp. A crowd of jeering wizards approached from a distance, their torches raised high and their faces hooded and masked as they brought down their flames on various tents, uncaring as families ran from them in terror. But it was the scene above that made Harry, Hermione and the Weasley clan stand frozen in disgust and horror. For floating above the jeering crowd were four figures, pale in the fire light as their bodies levitated and contorted to the crowd’s pleasure. 

Harry saw Ron’s face twist into a snarl as one of the smaller figures was tipped upside down, spinning in a way that would make a child sick if they weren’t unconscious and suspended. Ginny echoed her brother’s sentiment, her hand finding Hermione’s and squeezing tight. And Hermione, his best friend…. 

In all the things Harry and his friends had faced in the past, he had never seen Hermione as afraid as she was at that moment. Watching the child spin and spin and spin. It was then he realized. 

“They’re muggles,” the ghastly whisper from Hermione’s mouth confirmed his own fears. Ron and Harry exchanged a look. If wizards would do that to muggles, what would they do if they found a muggle born? 

Ron spun towards his father, who observed the proceedings with his eyes darting every which way as if to find out what to do. Both boys watched the older Weasley steel himself as Bill, Charlie and Percy darted out of the tent dressed and ready with their wands. 

Unlike the younger children, the three didn’t show fear as they observed the chaos before turning to their father, waiting on instructions on what to do. Harry noticed how Fred and George straightened up, still obviously anxious on what was going to happen next but still wanting to help out somehow. 

“We need to help the Ministry get everything under control,” Mr. Weasley began, gesturing to himself and the older boys before pointing to the twins, “Fred, George, you get this lot and head to the woods. Stick together. Watch each other’s backs. We’ll come get you once everything has calmed down.” 

The twins nodded as their father and elder brothers ran into the fray, wands high and their chins higher. Fred and George turned to the others, both immediately grabbing one of Ginny’s hands before pulling her into a run, “ _C’mon!_ ” 

Harry and Ron followed their lead, both pulling Hermione in between them and running to catch up to the others as the tree line came closer and closer. They were out of breath – partly from running and partly from fear – as they turned around to watch the proceedings in the cover of the forest. They noticed the crowd had grown under the muggle family – half of them being the masked menaces jeering and laughing while the other half were those from the Ministry trying to apprehend the masked wizards. The conundrum they faced was how to get the muggle family down without compromising their safety. 

That was when Harry noticed it was much too dark for his liking. And that he couldn’t see anyone. He heard people running through the woods behind them, their panicked cries reaching his ears. 

Shouts and calls for loved one mixed in with shouts back, promises of safety. He also heard whispers of figures unseen. Their voices were broken by the yelp of pain that sounded like it came from - 

“Ron!? Are you alright? Where are you?” Hermione exclaimed from in front of Harry, causing him to almost walk into her, “What happened?” 

Her voice rose higher until her nerves took control, “This is stupid – _Lumos!_ ” 

With the newfound light – _Merlin knows why they didn’t think of that before_ – they were able to see Ron sprawled on the ground a few feet away from them, “Tripped over a tree-root.” 

Their best friend angrily got to his feet and began dusting off the dirt on his pajamas. 

“Well, with feet that size, hard not to,” drawled a voice from the darkness behind them. 

Hermione, having already heard someone approach them from behind, spun around first, Harry and Ron following only a second later. She took that second to take in the fact that _he_ was alone – and not part of the mob tormenting the muggles, to her surprise. 

As a Slytherin pureblood – and the leader of their tormentors at Hogwarts – Draco Malfoy was your usual spoiled, rich kid raised on blood prejudice, ignorance and arrogance that made his upper lip sneer whenever he met them in the hallways. His rivalry with them stemmed for different reasons; Harry for having rejected his offer of friendship for Ron once realizing his prejudice back in first year, Ron for being the reason he was rejected as well as his distaste for the Weasley family as a whole and Hermione who happened to be muggleborn – something he was told made her inferior to him, even though she bested him in most of their classes, him taking second in the best grades of their year level. 

So yes, the fact he was hiding out in the forest with them rather then out in the crowd enjoying the spectacle was a little bit out of character. Which only made Hermione – and probably the boys – even more suspicious of his motives. 

The blonde boy leaned against a tree, wearing the same suit he had worn from the game and didn’t look the least concerned by the pandemonium that had erupted mere minutes ago. In fact, the longer they stared silently at him, the bigger his smirk grew. 

“Go fuck yourself, Malfoy!” Ron finally exclaimed, the silence breaking with the vulgar words that both Hermione and Harry knew he would _never_ say in the presence of Mrs. Weasley. 

Malfoy didn’t seem to mind though, his silver-blue eyes glittering in the face of her Lumos. 

“ _Language_ , Weasley,” his voice low and dangerous, sending shivers down Hermione’s spine, “Hadn’t you better hurry along, now? You wouldn’t like _her_ spotted, would you?” 

Hermione didn't realize he was talking about her until he looked her way, those pale eyes travelling up and down her body, taking in the nightgown and the robe she had hastily thrown over it. Her scowl grew and as did his amusement. Despite her instincts telling her to _focus on him, hex him if he moved_ , she found herself glancing quickly at the campsite. A flash of green illuminated the trees around them and she felt her heart stutter. She knew subconsciously an Avada had not been casted – _Unforgiveable_ curses were Azkaban worthy – she knew that if someone from that group found her, a muggleborn - well, it would be tempting. 

Malfoy knew it too by the way he was watching her. She saw it in his eyes and in the way his head nodded as if to say _you should be afraid, Granger, you should be **very** afraid._

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” she heard Harry exclaim defiantly. She glanced at him as his wide eyes flickered from her, to Malfoy then to the campsite. 

Malfoy ignored him, addressing Hermione only when he drawled, “Granger, they’re after _muggles_.” 

He continued, leaning condescendingly down so that they were at eye-level, “D’you want to be showing off your knickers mid-air? Because if you do, hang around…..they’re moving this way and it would give us all a show. And a laugh.” 

“Hermione’s a _witch_ ,” Harry snarled. 

“Not to them, Potter. But _hey_ ,” Malfoy grinned maliciously, “If you think they can’t spot a **Mudblood** , stay where you are.” 

His pale eyes met hers once more and she paused, frowning. He was grinning but his eyes weren’t. They were _screaming_. 

_You should be afraid._

__

D’you want to be showing off your knickers mid-air? 

__

Not to them. 

__

_Get out of here, Granger!_

“You watch your mouth!” shouted Ron, breaking her translation of Malfoy's silent communication. At least, she _thought_ it was silent communication. Otherwise, they had just had a mini-staring competition. 

Hermione caught a glimpse again of Malfoy and sure enough he was giving her that look that said _are you daft, Granger? **MOVE!**_

“Never mind him, Ron,” she injected quickly, grabbing his arm to restrain him from making a move against the smirking blonde that had backed away so he was once again leaning against the tree, “Harry, we need to –“ 

Another bang. More screaming. Another look from Malfoy. More of Ron’s muttered cursing. 

“Scare easily, don’t they?” the blonde git taunted, “I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What’s he up to – trying to rescue the muggles? From where I’m standing, he’s not doing a good job.” 

“Where’s _your_ parents, Malfoy?” Harry snapped, the signs his temper was at it’s end, as was Ron’s, “Out there wearing the masks, are they?” 

Hermione noticed the slight curl of Draco’s upper lip again. A sneer but it stopped. Instead, he kept smiling. 

“Well…..if they were, I wouldn’t tell _you_ , would I, Potter?” 

She had just had enough of this! She grabbed both Harry and Ron by the shoulders, turning their attention from the grinning git back to her, “Oh, come on, leave him to his own devices and let’s go find the others!” 

She had turned around when she heard him again. 

“Keep that big, bushy head down, Granger!" 

Ron and Harry both started to turn around before she re-established her hold on them, pulling them back up the path again. When they were safely away from Malfoy, she paused to put up her hair in a tie. 

She recognized a warning when she heard one, even when it came from unsuspecting lips. 

\- 

Draco watched as the trio trekked up the path, the two boys betting amongst each other about if his father was one of the masked wizards or if he was the one _leading_ them. His lips curled into a bitter smile. 

He would love to indulge in that bet, probably earn himself a bit of pocket money. Or maybe he would be kind to Weasel, tip him off. Maybe he could spend the winnings on a new house for his family. 

_Or decent clothes_ , He sniffed to himself before turning back to watch as the masked wizards dissipated one by one. His attention stayed with a particularly tall one, with an elaborate mask and a noticeable strut in his walk. Good thing his father left his cane behind or else he would be picked out as Lucius Malfoy in _seconds_. Or maybe it was just because Draco knew his father well enough to spot him. 

He remembered after the game when he had asked to retire early. He had just shucked off his jacket in his quarters when his mother and father’s harsh whispers reached his ears. He didn’t catch it all, but he did catch his father leaving in a hooded robe, mask in hand and a disillusionment spell on his tongue. His mother had already readied herself to bed, content that they were further away from the common campground that they had no fear of being affected by the night’s events. 

She had called out to bid him good night and while calling back his own, he grabbed his wand and snuck out after his father. Trailing the man was a bit of a difficult feat – disillusionment charm and all – but when he noticed the other figures heading in the same direction he felt it didn’t matter what charm his father used. He would be there with _them_. 

Circling around as to avoid a confrontation with the group, he watched the events unfold from the tree line. It was there he saw the Weasley’s race into the fray, the laughter bubbling out of Draco’s throat as the older Weasley attempted to push his way through the crowd while Potter, Granger, Weasel and Weaslette as well as the twins sprinted towards where he was standing. 

It was entertaining to watch the whole bunch of them stumble around in the dark, calling out scared for each other. If he fancied himself a bit of fun, he would have messed with them a bit, just to see Weasel’s face when it turned an even brighter shade of red than his hair. Pissing of Saint Potter just to prove that he wasn’t as brave or noble as he liked to make himself out to be was always his favorite pastime, so that much was a given. Granger, though, that would have been another thing entirely to see her squirm, to see her eyes flash at him with outrage. Even in the midst of this heavy fog she would be able to make known her anger and disapproval. 

Pissing Weasel off was reminding him of his place. Pissing Potter off was humbling him. 

Pissing off Granger was purely just for his own amusement. 

Strange as it was though - a strangeness that quite frankly shook him - something about the thought of seeing her hung upside down, her silent scream frozen on her face as she hovered over the crowd of cheering Death Eaters, didn’t sit well with him. Truthfully, it made him _sick_ to his stomach. 

Granger was a **Mudblood** , one that fluttered around Hogwarts like she was _better_ than him, all because she was top of their class and had Saint Potter as a best friend. If anyone deserved to be put in her place, it was her. Merlin, she deserved to be humbled more than Potter or even Weasel, no matter if his family were a bunch of filthy blood traitors, he was still a pureblood – if he could still be called that. 

These thoughts ran through his head as he taunted her aloud but he silently screamed at her with his eyes to _get out of there_ , to get as far away from the group of people who were notorious for killing her kind and to get her two best friends out of there too, lest they draw attention and bring the Death Eaters on the whole lot of them. Sure, _he_ wouldn’t be in trouble – in fact, he could claim he was having his own little fun and get a pat on the back when he got home – but something silenced the little voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like his father. 

Disgusting as it might be, he had a sneaking suspicion it was the soft thing in his chest he called a heart and for some ungodly reason, _Salazar save him_ , it shrunk back at the thought of his father seizing Granger into the air and spinning her around so the skirts of her gown flew over her head, humiliating her for the whole Wizarding world to see. 

So, he warned her, in his own little way – no one would be able to accuse him of trying to do so, not when his lips held the same sneer he directed at her long after she managed to tug her two moronic friends through the forest and back onto the path. When they disappeared from sight, he let go off his sneer and turned back to watch the fires engulf the sprawling campsite with a carefully composed expression on his face, even as his stomach dropped with the knowledge that the fear the Death Eaters spread was contagious. No one was immune it, not even the son of the Death Eater spreading it. 

\- 

“I hope the others are okay,” Hermione murmured quietly as they stood around waiting, hoping that they would see the twins pop up sooner or later with Ginny in tow and make fun of them for getting lost because, _that always happens with you lot, doesn’t it?_

Ron turned his head from where he had previously been entertained with watching Krum’s action figure walk around on the ground, his likeness obvious even at three inches, and gazed at Hermione with empathetic eyes before reassuring her, “They’ll be fine.” 

He tried to sound at ease, like her concern was slightly exaggerated but she could tell he was worried to. She saw the uncertainty in his eyes before he turned back to the figure, his shoulders tightening. Harry exchanged a knowing look with Hermione before he joined their friend on the ground, nudging him a bit as he shot him a grin. 

“Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy. Hasn’t he always said he’d like to get something over him.” 

“That’d wipe the smirk off old Draco’s face, all right,” Ron cracked a grin in return, nudging Harry back. 

At the mention of the younger Malfoy, Hermione peered back into the forest in the direction they had left in over twenty minutes ago. She couldn’t get his eyes out of her head, nor the backward warning he sent her way. 

_Keep that big, busy head down, Granger._

She wondered if he stayed, stayed to watch and laugh at the muggles spinning in the air. A traitorous little voice dared to wonder if he might not be laughing at all before she shut it down with a rough shake of her head. 

_Of course he’d laugh_ , she scolded the voice as her fingers tugged at the curls that escaped the messy bun she had thrown her hair up in after his warning, _No matter what you deluded yourself into seeing, he’s a pompous, asshole who would like nothing more than to see you cry._

_After all, he seemed to enjoy seeing the Muggle children fly._

“Those poor Muggles,” She turned to the boys on the ground and asked nervously, “What if they can’t get them down?” 

“They will,” Ron reassured her, sounding more confident this time, “They’ll find a way.” 

“It is madness! To do something like that in front of the whole Ministry of Magic! I mean, I suspect they’ll get away with it but still – “ 

She broke off from what might have become an angry, spitfire of a rant at the sound of leaves breaking under someone’s shoes and felt her heart freeze up, terrified she might have drawn the attention of some Death Eaters straggling from the group with her loud voice. Harry and Ron slowly got to their feet, the latter pulling out his wand while the former shot a regretful look at it before shuffling closer to Hermione. 

They listened to the sound of footsteps that rang through the dark, silent forest and Hermione’s right hand found itself clutching the sleeve of Harry’s jumper, fingers curling around it tightly as she squinted into the darkness, trying to make out the owner of the footsteps. She had started to rear back as they came closer before they abruptly stopped. 

_Oh, please, don’t be a Death Eater!_

“Hello?” Harry called out and she flinched, prepared to scold him for it when Ron suddenly got the bright idea to shout. 

“Who’s there?!” 

The silent that met them made the hairs on her neck stand to attention and she cursed Malfoy for putting the fear of God into her with his stupid comments about Death Eaters tracking her down by her hair alone. She should have known he was just trying to scare her! She was stupid and he was probably having a laugh somewhere knowing he had Hermione Granger running scared in the woods! It was probably the little ferret himself, trying to terrify her even more! 

She was ready to roll up her sleeves and shine a light on his stupid face when it was uttered with a strong, clear voice. 

A spell. 

“ _MORSMORDRE!_ ” 

A flash of green erupted through the clearing they were in, lighting it up enough that she was able to see the look of horror that splashed across Ron’s face as he watched the green flash meet the nightsky with a bang that had them all stumbling back. 

“What the – “ her friend uttered from where he had fallen against Harry’s shoulder, clutching it like Harry was the only reason he could still stand as the flash of green formed into a shape that made Hermione gaso. 

It was a skull of emerald mist that loomed over them, a serpent writhing as it protruded from it’s mouth like a tongue. As it rose to the highest point in the sky, the forest erupted into screams of terror and she felt Harry flinch against her. She couldn’t blame the occupants of the forest for their terror. It took everything in her to not scream alongside them. She knew that mark, she knew everything the books allowed her to know about that mark and what it meant, what it stood for. 

Of _who_ it stood for. 

Her head snapped around again when Harry repeated to the dimly lit clearing, “Who’s there?” 

_What is he doing?_

Grabbing the back of his jacket with a roughness that communicated just how frazzled she was of what they just witnessed, she yanked her best friend back from where he had started to move forward. 

“What are you doing!? Harry, _move_!” 

“What’s going on, Mione?” he asked as he spun out of her group, his eyes running down her pale face, “What is that?” 

“It’s the Dark Mark, Harry!” she cried out, trying to pull him along again. When she saw the confused look on his face, she groaned out loud and pulled on his arm harder as she pointed to it, “That’s the sign of _You-Know-Who_!” 

“ _Voldemort_ \- ?” 

“ _Merlin_ , Harry, **_come on!_** ” Ron shouted a bit away, having ran to where they had been sitting to scoop up his Krum figure from the ground, his blue eyes wide and fearful as they flickered from the image in the sky to Hermione struggling with getting Harry moving. 

It wasn’t until Ron started off in a run that Harry swallowed his questions, realizing that this was bad, bad enough to send his friends running. Hermione almost sighed in relief as he started along with her rather than against her and let go of him, running beside him. They barely made it a few steps before she felt the air around her ripple with magic, right before the popping sounds began. 

She jerked to a stop beside her friends at the abrupt appearance of twenty wizards, their wands all pointed at them with a growing light already building at the end of them. Harry was the one who got over his shock first, spinning around and knocking them to the ground. 

Hermione closed her eyes shut and buried her face into the ground as the wizards in front of them let out a roar. 

“ _ **STUPEFY!**_ ” 

From under her closed eyelids, red light flickered furiously, and she cried out, curling up into a protective ball to further limit the chances of one of the spells catching on her limbs. She knew the spell, had practically memorized it over the holidays. She hadn’t had a chance to use it yet, the use of underage magic was strictly prohibited, but she read that it could knock a wizard out if it was powerful enough. 

She feared to see what twenty of them could do to her and her friends. 

Suddenly a loud, angry voice boomed out in only a way a parent fearing for the safety of their child could. 

“ **STOP!** That’s my son!” 

The spells didn’t stop right away Hermione discovered as she lifted her head up slightly in relief to hear Arthur Weasly’s voice and almost met with a stray stunner spell if it weren't for Harry’s arm shoving her back down. Harry made sure to check if there were any more spells still active before he allowed his friends to move, rolling off the both of them to stare bemused at the wizards surrounding them. 

Hermione took a few deep breaths before she rose her arms wobbling as they went out on either side to hold her up. The strong wind from the spells undid her hair and it swept around her forehead and shoulders in a cloud of dark, unruly curls. She pushed it back to see the wizards properly, noticing the dark, official robes they wore before sighing in relief. 

_It’s just the Ministry of Magic – but why in Merlin’s name were they shooting at us?!_

The last wizard to lower their wand did so with a suspicious glare before he moved to the side to let Mr. Weasley through to them, the red headed man running towards them with a terrified expression slashed across his face. 

“ _Ron_ – Harry – Hermione, are you alright?” 

“Out of the way, Arthur.” 

Mr Crouch, the last wizard to lower his wand, pushed himself up beside Mr. Weasley to level an expression full of cool, icy rage on the three teenagers as he snapped accusingly, “Which one of you did it? Which one of you conjured the Dark Mark?!” 

“We didn’t do _that_!” Harry spat out, his face scrunching up. Ron echoed the sentiment, his face flushing red as he rubbed at his elbow. It probably bruised when he fell down. Hermione’s back was a bit sore from how she hit the ground but she rather have an aching back than feel what ever kind of pain would come from a stupefy. Or twenty of them. 

She was content to stay quiet as they interrogated them. She knew that they had done nothing wrong and there was nothing that would support any arguments on otherwise. They just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

_Per usual._

Hermione stiffened when Mr. Crouch pointed his wand directly at Ron and started having doubts on the efficiency of logic against the Ministry official. He looked as if he was crazed, eyes popping out of his face as he snarled at her best friend, “Do not **lie** , sir! You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!” 

“Barty,” one of the witches who had stepped forward slightly, her eyes running over the three teenagers with a dubious expression as she began, “They’re _kids_ , Barty, they’d never have been able to – “ 

“Where did the Mark come from, you three?” Mr. Weasley quickly cut in, eager to move on with the investigation so that Barty Crouch would get his bloody wand pointed in another direction other than his son’s chest. 

Hermione was to happy to comply, shakily lifting a hand to point at the place the green light had originated from behind them, “Over there. There was someone behind the trees - they shouted words – an incantation – “ 

“Oh, stood over _there_ , did they?” Mr. Crouch drawled, his voice growing increasingly higher and developing a more sarcastic tone as he turned towards her with his brows raised high, “Said an incantation, _did they_? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy – “ 

“ _Well informed?_ You have got to be kidding me!” Ron suddenly burst out, his face red with outrage, “She answered the question and suddenly she’s well informed? That is **rubbish!** ” 

“ _Ron_ – “ Mr.Weasley scolded, shooting a warning look over at his son, one that was promptly ignored as he went on. 

“No, this is absolute _rubbish_ , I tell ya! You think _we_ did _that_?! Do you even _know_ who _we_ are?” he shouted, gesturing to his two best friends as he continued, “You think, what? _Harry Potter_ , the one who defeated _You-Know-Who_ and Hermione Granger, a muggleborn – who I remind you, _You-Know-Who_ was _not_ a fan of – put the Dark Mark, _You-Know-Who’s mark_ , in the sky? **Rubbish!** ” 

The other wizards shifted on their feet, resigned with the knowledge of how ridiculous it was to even suspect the three teenagers. The witch who had spoken up against Mr.Crouch nodded, turning to the wizard to say, “Barty, we need to investigate the spot the spell was cast. These children had – “ 

Once more she was cut off as Mr.Crouch threw his hands up in the air as he asked Ron, “And _you_? What about you, boy?” 

“ _Me?!_ ” the look on Ron’s face was almost comical as he raised his wand in his hand before muttering, “You’re welcome to test it, sir, but I’ll tell ya right now, I can barely do a simple summoning spell with the thing, let alone do whatever spell needed to do _that_! Nor would I wanna!” 

Mr. Crouch glared at the boy for a moment before glancing at his colleagues, taking in their stoic expressions over his continued interrogation of the children and sighed. Straightening up, he sharply inclined his head to the witch beside him to lead the way to the direction Hermione had pointed out. 

“Can we go back to the tent already?” Ron questioned impatiently. 

“I’m afraid I can’t go ‘til we get to the bottom of things, Ron,” Mr.Weasley replied wearily, before he started forward, “Come on, kids, let’s get this over and done with.” 

With that, they hurried to catch up to the Ministry wizards, their bones and hearts heavy with the knowledge that this was going to be a long night for them indeed. 

\- 

Horror was still splayed across Hermione’s face when they made it back to the camp. She couldn’t believe how Mr.Crouch treated his house elf, even knowing that she didn’t do anything wrong. Winky was scared, blind scared with the knowledge that there were wizards that had been levitating people up in the air and fuelled with her fear of heights, it was only natural she would escape in search for the comfort and safety of her master. Leaving her behind in the tent in the first place was one cruelty but punishing her, torturing her for running was another kind of malice altogether. 

From almost killing Hermione, Ron and Harry to accusing them of putting the sign in the sky, Mr. Crouch was becoming someone she disliked more and more. His punishment of Winky only solidified her hostile opinion of him and she told Mr. Weasley so the whole way back. 

“Hermione, I agree with you but now is not the time to discuss elf rights. I want to get back to the tent as fast as we can. What happened to the others?” Mr. Weasley had told her before turning to direct his question to Ron. 

“We lost them in the dark. Had us searching the whole damn woods for them – we stopped in the clearing to wait to see if we’d come across ‘em but – “ Ron explained before trailing off, his eyes going back to the sky with a gulp. 

“The twins are smart. They’ll have kept Ginny safe. Let’s just hope they found their way back to the camp.” 

When they had arrived, it was to a crowd shaking with the terrible knowledge of what loomed above them, at the same time plagued with confusion on how exactly it came to be. Hermione didn’t blame the witches and wizards that practically latched themselves onto Mr. Weasley as soon as they saw him, their questions mixing together until it was endless shouting. 

Mr. Weasley pushed forward, the three kids following closely behind so as to not get pushed away by the crowd, impatient words thrown over his shoulder that did not deter him in his path. He didn’t stop in his fast, hurried pace until they made it to their tents, still miraculously standing even as the fire ate the tents of their neighbors. 

Charlie’s full head of red hair greeted them as it poked itself out of the boy’s tent, his face crumbling in relief at the sight of his father striding towards him. 

“Dad, what’s going on? Fred, George and Ginny got back okay, but the others – “ 

“I’ve got them here,” Mr.Weasley stepped aside briefly to show the kids trailing behind him. Charlie nodded one with a tight smile before disappearing inside. Mr. Weasley disappeared after him, Hermione, Ron and Harry following behind. 

Hermione was shocked to see how rough the older Weasley boys looked as they sat around the kitchen table. Bill was bleeding heavily from his arm, evident by the soaked bedsheet he was using, and unsuccessfully at that, to cover the wound. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt and ash in his hair, bruising already forming around his knuckles. Percy was sporting a bloody nose but still managed a nod at the newcomers, straightening up as his father observed the injury with a wince. 

Fred and George had somehow managed to seat themselves on a beanbag on the floor, their younger sister squeezed in between them but they were unharmed, albeit their shaking hands and their wide, spooked arms spoke volumes about how shaken up they were. She met Ginny’s silent question with a smile, and watched with a sigh as the red headed girl’s eyes dragged over to settle on Harry, softening with obvious relief. 

She saw it took the girl a great deal of effort to look away from him and applauded her as she got up to give Ron a hug and Harry a tentative smile that he returned. Ginny pulled away from her brother when Bill stood up to ask his father if they captured the person who summoned the Mark. 

“No,” Mr. Weasley sighed in disappointment as he settled himself down on an old, worn arm chair, his shoulders sinking in exhaustion, “We found Barty Crouch’s elf holding Harry’s wand, but we’re none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark.” 

The boys were shocked to say the least at the notion of Barty Crouch’s own elf being discovered with the wand that summoned the mark, and the fact that it was actually _Harry’s_ wand that was used. They had taken turns explaining to the best of their ability what transpired after they had separated from the twins and Ginny and once they were done, Hermione felt her anger rise once more as Percy leaned back in his chair triumphantly and then proceeded to not only _support_ Mr.Crouch’s treatment of Winky, but **justify** it. 

She did not let it stand. 

“She didn’t _do_ anything – she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time! Like we were – “ 

“Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch’s position can’t afford a house elf who’s going to run amok with a wand!” 

“She didn’t _run amok_! She just picked it off the ground!” 

“Alright,” Fred stood up with an over-exaggerated sigh, “As fun as it watching Hermione have a go at Percy – I think it’s safe to say there is nothing we want more than to just go to bed, right?” 

“Can someone please tell me what the deal is about the Mark?” Harry asked suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention to him. His cheeks reddened slightly before he stood taller, and explained, “It wasn’t hurting anyone – so what if someone summoned it? I don’t see why it almost cost us our lives over it. What’s the big deal?” 

Before anyone could answer, Hermione replied, “I told you, it’s _You-Know-Who’s_ symbol, Harry. I read about it in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_.” 

“And it hasn’t been seen for thirteen years,” Mr. Weasley took up the explanation, rubbing a hand over his jaw as a grave look took hold of his face, “Of course people panicked! – It was probably like seeing _You-Know-Who_ back again.” 

“I get that it was _his_ Mark,” Ron spoke up, shuffling his feet from where he stood beside Harry, “I heard stories about it at school but I mean – it’s only a shape in the sky! _You-Know-Who_ appeared at our bloody school attached to the back of Quirrel’s head and not one person from the Ministry popped up!” 

“Ron, watch your mouth! If your mother heard the language you have been using tonight, she’d have your head,” Mr. Weasley scolded his son before he turned to Harry and said, “To answer your question, _You-Know-Who_ and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed. The terror it inspired – “ 

The man’s voice broke on the last word and his eyes misted over in a fear that belonged in the past, a fear that should have been eradicated from the Wizarding World a long time ago by the very boy who stood before him in the tent. But that Mark in the sky brought about memories, horrors of a time he and Molly had put behind him. Of always looking out the window at the stormy sky above, of his wife crying softly in the corner so as not to wake their children as the news came to them of her brothers, of the way they clutched each other’s hands under the breakfast table each morning as letter after letter came from the Order – 

He knew he had paused for too long and snapped his head up to meet Harry’s eyes, then Hermione’s, then his son’s. His eyes ran over every single one of his children before breathing out, “You have _no idea_ , you’re too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, knowing what you’re about to find inside – everyone’s _worst_ fear – the very worst- “ 

Silence engulfed them. It was a heavy silence, heavy with the image of the past Mr. Weasley told. Hermione felt her stomach drop at the thought of the Mark looming over her own house, knowing that when Mr. Weasley talked of _You-Know-Who’s_ followers sending the Mark into the air when they killed, he wasn’t only talking about the wizards and witches. It was no secret that at the time, the killing of muggles had increased to the point where the Muggle Prime Minister had to be consulted with. She couldn’t fathom the horror of seeing the unspoken things Mr. Weasley alluded to but she suspected the bone-chilling terror that settled into her soul was only a piece of it. 

The long moment was broken as Bill stood up to inspect the cut on his arm – if she could dismiss it as such – and said, “Well, it didn’t help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we’d got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Robertses before they hit the ground, though. They’re having their memories modified right now.” 

Hermione clutched her chest as relief overcame her. She had worried after the Muggles through their trek through the woods and was glad that their torment had come to an end without much harm. Still, it angered her that they were targeted and that their suffering was entertainment to the sick individuals who had caused all of this. 

“Disapparated, that’s what those Ministry Wizards did tonight, in’t it? When they appeared out of thin air?” Ron murmured to Harry, who shrugged before turning around again to ask another question. 

“What are Death Eaters?” 

Bill rolled his shoulders back as he replied, “It’s what _You-Know-Who’s_ supporters call themselves. I think we saw what’s left of them tonight – the one’s who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway.” 

“We can’t prove it was actually them, Bill,” Mr. Weasley reminded his son, shrugging as an afterthought “Though it probably was.” 

“Yeah, I bet it was!” Ron jumped forward, eyes wide, “Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he _as good as told us_ his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with _You-Know-Who!_ ” 

Hermione stiffened at the mention of Malfoy, and his possible connection with the Death Eaters but before she could dwell on the foreboding thought some more, Harry cut in. 

“But what were Voldemort’s supporters – “ Harry winced apologetically when the Weasley family reared back from the forbidden name like it was a deadly snake and amended himself, “Sorry, what were _You-Know-Who’s <.em> supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?” _

__

Mr. Weasley barked out an empty, humorless laugh as he repeated, “The _point_? Harry, that’s their idea of **fun**. Half the Muggle killings were done for fun. I supposed they had a few drinks tonight and couldn’t resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them.” 

__

“But if they _were_ the Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark? They’d have been pleased to see it, wouldn’t they?” Ron pointed out. 

__

“Use your brains, Ron,” Bill sighed as he wandered over to the kitchen sink to fill up a glass of water, “If they really were Death Eaters, they worked really hard to keep out of Azkaban when _You-Know-Who_ lost power, and they told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they’d be even _more_ frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they’d ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives. I don’t reckon he’d be overly _pleased_ with them, do you?” 

__

Hermione watched as he lifted his glass to take a sip, his sardonic expression fading into the weary one they all wore. 

__

“It doesn’t make sense then. Whoever conjured the Dark Mark – well, it would have had to be in support of the Death Eaters, or at the very least, for _You-Know-Who_. If it wasn’t by one of them, or someone who supports him, then who was it? And why do it?” Hermione thought out loud, her brows set in a frown. 

__

Mr. Weasley shook his head, “Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione. But I’ll tell you this – it was only Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I’d be _very_ surprised if the person who did it hadn’t been a Death Eater once, even if they’re not now.” 

__

After leaving that thought to settle in, the older man got to his feet with a wince before declaring to his children, “Listen, it’s very late, and if your mother hears what’s happened she’ll be worried sick. We’ll get a few more hours of sleep and then try and get an early Portkey out of here.” 

__

Hermione shuffled out alongside Ginny to her tent, whispering a soft goodnight to the younger girl as they slid into their cots. She was tired to the bone but after what Mr. Weasley and Bill had told them, with her mind full of thoughts of Dark Marks and Death Eaters amongst them, she couldn’t help but think that sleep would escape her. 

__

An hour later, after worry wore her down enough for exhaustion to take hold, she felt her eyes droop close and with the last bit of awareness she had left before sleep took it from her, she felt disturbed to know that Draco Malfoy’s eyes and the silent messages they held within them were her last thoughts before thoughts left her altogether.

__


	3. Compartments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We saw him right up close, as well!” Ron went on, completely ignoring the look she was sending him to cut it out, “We were in the Top Box – “
> 
> “For the first and last time in your life, Weasley.”
> 
> _Oh, you have **got** to be kidding me!_
> 
> Hermione internally groaned as she rolled her eyes to where Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini stood and wished desperately to go back to her daydream where he was far away in the north, out of her life and out of her bloody compartment!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Implied/Referenced canon-typical racism is featured in this chapter.

#### 31st August, 1994 - The Hogwarts Express

“Can you believe this, Freddie?” George Weasley complained loudly as they walked down the narrow corridor of the Hogwarts Express, his arms thrown up dramatically in the air above his head, “The woman is obviously punishing us for something!” 

“You know,” his twin, Fred Weasley, leaned in to tell the other boy in an exaggerated whisper, “If _**someone**_ hadn’t snitched about our winnings from Bagman, we would still be her favourite children!” 

They both whipped their heads around to level their younger brother, who had been walking behind him with his two best friends, a pointed glare. 

Ron Weasley couldn’t help but roll his eyes at their antics, scoffing back at them, “Come of it, Fred! We both know that Bill is the favourite!” 

Shoving past the twins, who had released noises of indignation at the statement, Ron led his friends to the compartment where they had dropped off their luggage before they had been seen off by Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Charlie. 

Ron fell in an ungraceful lump on the chair to the left, pulling a face at his brothers as they walked past. On the other side of the compartment, Harry had settled down against the window, leaning his head full of unruly, jet black hair against the glass to watch as the rain spattered down hard on it from outside. 

Hermione, in a very unsurprisingly move from the girl, had pulled out a textbook that she had decided to entertain herself with reading during the ride to school, her fingers already pinching back the pages to where she had left her bookmark, although she knew that it was likely that she would be drawn into conversation with the two boys at one point or another. 

After sprawling on the chair for a moment more, Ron unfurled his long limbs and got to his feet, his hands going up to where his luggage lay above them. The red headed boy pulled it down onto his seat and was combing through it’s contents for his robes, throwing articles of clothing over Hedwig’s cage where it sat at Harry’s feet, the thick clothing muffling the bird’s non-stop hooting that had been slowly driving him insane since they had shut the door. 

Groaning when the bird’s hooting only increased in volume and frequency, he threw himself back on the chair, earning a glare of disapproval from Hermione at leaving his clothes strewn about. 

“Bagman wanted to tell us what’s happening at Hogwarts……” 

Slamming her book shut with a sigh, Hermione got up from her seat to collect his clothing, unable to fathom what their peers and upperclassmen would think of them if they found Ron’s trouser pants strewn around like party streamers, when the arrogant drawl of a voice that had been plaguing her mind for weeks on end came from the compartment next door to theirs. 

She straightened up and her mind drifted back to when she had last heard that voice and the impression it had left on her for the remainder of the holidays. 

_“Keep that big, busy head down, Granger.”_

Blowing a stray curl out of her face, she walked to the wall closest to the door to hear what the Slytherin was gloating so loudly about, brows furrowed as she thought to herself, _Maybe he’s still kicking over scaring me half to death with his warnings! Merlin knows, he had me running terrified in that forest with his talks of being tracked down by my hair, the ferret!_

Unfortunately, she could not hear anything over Ron’s complaining and she snapped around, finger pressed to her lips as she shushed them. The boys threw her confused looks as she leaned against compartment wall as she listened to the familiar voice drawl from the compartment beside theirs, “Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know? He knows the Headmaster, you see.” 

The wood under Hermione’s hands creaked loudly from where they were pressed against the wall to hold her up and she froze when the voice stopped. Panicking slightly that she had been caught eavesdropping, she waited for the moment one of the occupants of the compartment over would come through and catch her listening. 

After a brief moment where the boys and her sat and waited, the voice began again in a rather arrogant tone, “Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore – the man’s such a Mudblood lover – and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort of riff-raff. But Mother didn’t like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually _learns_ them, not just the defence rubbish we do….” 

Gritting her teeth to stop herself from snapping loudly, Hermione went and shut the door with a quiet click, silencing anything else that was said from the compartment next door. 

“So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?” she muttered to the compartment wall in a low voice before turning to her friends, “I wish he _had_ gone, than we wouldn’t have to put up with him!” 

_Imagine a world where I didn’t have to see that ferret at school every year! It would be a nice place to live, would it not? Maybe he’ll do us a favour and listen to his father and go as far away from us as possible!_

Hermione sat back down with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest with one last glare at the wall dividing the two compartments before she opened up her book, content on the idea not to let the ferret bring down her mood any longer. 

“Durmstrang’s another wizarding school?” Harry questioned curiously, leaning forward with his hands clasped together. 

Hermione sighed to herself as she was reminded once again of how little Harry knew about the Wizarding world. 

_I really must do more to teach him about the world we live in._

“Yes, Harry, and it’s got a horrible reputation. According to _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_ , it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts.” 

Ron nodded alongside of her, his brows furrowed slightly, “I think I’ve heard of it. Where is it, though? What country?” 

Hermione shrugged, shaking her head, “Well, nobody knows, do they?” 

“Er – why not?” 

“There’s traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets,” she explained in her usual matter-of-fact tone she took when she had to inform the boys of something that they should have already learnt. Harry, she could forgive but Ron should know better, having been raised in the Wizarding world since he was born. 

Ron threw his head back with a laugh as if she had told a joke, “Come off it, Hermione! Durmstrang’s got to be the same size of Hogwarts! How are you going to go about hiding a dirty great castle!?” 

Hermione leaned back in surprise, her wide eyes flickering between them both before she found that Ron was not being sarcastic, as she thought. He was dead serious. 

“Ron, Hogwarts _is_ hidden,” she began in a quiet voice, “Everyone knows that…..well, everyone who’s read _Hogwarts: A History_ , anyway.” 

“Ah, so just you, then,” Ron nodded, sending Harry a sidelong look before he turned back to her and gestured for her to continue, “So go on – how d’you hide a place like Hogwarts.” 

_Besides the obvious, Ronald?_

Hermione subtly rubbed the side of her forehead before answering, “It’s bewitched. If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a mouldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying, **DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE**.” 

“So Dumrstrang’ll just look like a ruin to an outsider, too?” 

Hermione shrugged, “Maybe – or it might have Muggle Repelling Charms on it, like at the World Cup Stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they’ll have made it Unplottable – “ 

She was getting excited, throwing around the theories she had about how the wizarding schools might have remained hidden for so long. She hadn’t even gotten to tell them about her theory that the schools might be able to move so as to remain undetected by not staying in one place for too long when Harry raised his brow at her. 

“Come again?” 

Right, they probably have no clue what an Unplottable is. Well, tutoring these two was not going to be easy, she accepted that when they had became friends and it was made explicitly clear to her that they had no work ethic nor any real determination to study for their classes at all. 

“An Unplottable is a building that has been enchanted so that it’s impossible to plot on a map. It won’t show up on any mapping material, Muggle or Wizard, if the enchantment remains. Although, I think for such an enchantment to be on a wizarding school, they would have to re do it, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Er – if you say so,” she heard Harry distantly mutter, but was too caught up in her theories to pay it any mind. 

“I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north. Somewhere very cold if I had to guess. They have fur coats as part of their uniform, and I can’t begin to imagine forcing a student into such an outfit if the temperature were moderate or hot – “ 

Ron began to smile as she spoke, leaning against his fist that had been propped against the window sill as he mumbled dreamily, “Ah, think of the possibilities. It would’ve been so _easy_ to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident – shame his mother likes him so bloody much.” 

Rolling her eyes at him, Hermione went back to reading her book, _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_ edition, but couldn’t help but silently agree. His dreamy mumblings echoed her own internal thoughts to a T and as she memorized the incantations and silently worked on her motions with her wand by her side, she let herself daydream of a life at Hogwarts where there wasn’t a great, blonde git who didn’t have it out for her and her friends. 

She would have no competition to achieve top of her class in every subject, and maybe she would enjoy time to herself instead of studying relentlessly to maintain that spot. Although, it would be a waste for her to relax herself after instilling herself with a drive to persevere and be the best at what she did. It would be awfully boring if she didn’t have someone to challenge her, to remind her of what she fought for. Even if it was that bigoted, blonde haired, silver eyed, menace of a boy! 

She was snapped out of her thoughts when the compartment door opened and three of their friends came to join them. Dean Thomas had taken one look at them and made himself at home, taking a seat next to Harry where he showed him and Ron the new sketch book he had made and it was with Harry’s help that he explained what a graphic novel was to Ron, who seemed amazed at the colours Dean had used and how they made up for the lack of movement of the characters. 

Seamus Finnigan, still wearing his Irish rosette that was clearly running out of magic, leaned against the wall above them, pointing out who his favourite character was and already rolling up his sleeves to fight Ron for who could lay claim over the protagonist, one who had Dean’s dark colouring and playful eyes. Hermione had lifted up her head for just a moment to catch Dean ducking his head with a blush and she smiled to herself before turning to Neville Longbottom as he joined her on the seat across the compartment from the others. 

“Lo’ Hermione,” the blonde boy gave her a small grin as he put down his bookbag on the chair beside him, pulling out the Herbology textbook for their year, “Is it all right if I sit with you?” 

“Of course, it is,” she smiled back with a nod, looking over to where he had opened his textbook. Tucked into the middle were numerous loose sheets of parchment, all with drawings and sketches of the numerous plants and herbs they had to learn about this term, “I see you have already started studying. Those are remarkable drawings you’ve done there, Neville.” 

“Oh, thanks, Hermione,” a pink flush spread across his round cheeks, and he scratched his neck as he stuttered, “I – uh – I forget the names of them pretty easily but I find that if I draw them, I have a better time identifying them by sight and remembering them that way.” 

“Well, I’m glad that you have found a way to help advance your studies,” she hummed warmly before remarking, “They are very detailed diagrams. They must have taken you all holidays to complete!” 

“Yes, well, I had hoped to go to the World Cup but Gran didn’t want to go,” Neville hung his head in disappointment before gesturing to where Ron was telling Dean and Thomas about their own experience, excluding of course, the terrifying aftermath, “She wouldn’t buy tickets. It sounded amazing, though.” 

Hermione frowned at the boy and felt sorry that he had to miss it. She shot a cutting look to Ron, who was oblivious to Neville’s unhappiness when he chimed in, “It was. Look at this, Neville!” 

She rolled her eyes as he pulled out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum and watched as Neville stared at it with eyes wide in awe and envy, “Oh, _wow_!” 

“We saw him right up close, as well!” Ron went on, completely ignoring the look she was sending him to cut it out, “We were in the Top Box – “ 

“For the first and last time in your life, Weasley.” 

_Oh, you have **got** to be kidding me!_

Hermione internally groaned as she rolled her eyes to where Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini stood and wished desperately to go back to her daydream where he was far away in the north, out of her life and out of her bloody compartment! 

\- 

#### Earlier that train ride…

Draco Malfoy felt like he had been here before. In a small, quiet compartment on the Hogwarts Express, taking a break from the world around him, filled to the brim with all kinds of people who he wanted nothing to do with. He watched as the rain pattered down the windows and the storm clouds darkened as the train ran along the tracks out of King’s Cross and out towards the countryside. The grey sky brought a foreboding sort of feeling upon his heart as he remembered the events that had occurred two weeks ago. 

After Granger, Weasley and Potter left him on the outskirts of the forest, he had walked the perimeter of the campsite, watching as the flames ate up the tents of families and officials alike. No one was safe from the fear the Death Eaters spread and he had briefly entertained the idea of the scenario in which the flames would make it all the way to the private tents his father had raised for his mother and himself to stay in for the night. 

He had grown bored watching the scene and had begun to head back to his tent when the sky was cracked open by an eerie, emerald light, illuminating the smoke-like clouds as they twisted and writhed into the form of a skull, a serpent erupting from it’s mouth like a perverse tongue. 

He would never admit it to anyone, not even to his own mother and father, but the sight of the sign that had been murmured in terror and reverence, even by Lucius Malfoy himself, in the sky above him caused him to almost fall in shock. It was _impossible_ for that spell to even be cast unless – 

He remembered looking back at the masked rioters and seeing them all shrinking back, none more than his father who had immediately pointed his wand to himself and disappeared into the environment around him, presumably by the use of a Disillusionment Charm. He watched as his camouflaged form wavered as he sprinted back towards their tents, towards where he had last left his mother and himself and knew that whoever was responsible for summoning the Dark Lord’s sign, was someone working outside of his father’s knowledge. 

With that disturbing thought, he raced his father to their tent, only arriving a moment before the man and out of breath at that. His mother, in her silk robes and her hair cascading down her shoulders in silver curls, gasped at the sight of the two of them, clearly having no clue what had transpired in the night sky above them. His father had questioned him about still being up and Draco had spat off a lie about hearing the screams and going outside to see what the matter was before turning the question on his own father. 

_“As far as you and your mother know, I was asleep beside her in this tent the entire evening,” Lucius whispered harshly, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder with a tight his grip, “Is that **understood** , Draco?”_

_“Only if you tell me what that thing was in the sky.”_

_“You know very well what that was – “_

_“Would someone care to explain it me, then?” Narcissa cried out quietly, touching her husband’s arm as she looked into his eyes searchingly, “What has happened, Lucius?”_

_“Someone has cast the Dark Mark,” he told her in a grave voice._

_Draco watched as his mother snatched her hand back, covering her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes, “You can’t mean to say that – “_

_“Cissa,” his father murmured, taking his hand off his shoulder to bring his arms around his wife, “I don’t know. It was not supposed to be this way.”_

_His parents barely spared him a glance before his father ushered his mother back to their quarters, putting up a Silencing Charm before the candles illuminating the tent were put out simultaneously, leaving him alone and in darkness._

Draco’s lips tightened at the memory and he wondered what Weasel would have to say if he ever found out that Lucius Malfoy wasn’t as much of an informed ringleader as he pretended to be. 

Feeling the need to ground himself to a present comfortable to him, he felt around in his coat for the letter his mother had given him at the dining table that morning when she came back from the Owlery. The parchment in the envelope was stark white and smelt of vanilla and he smiled faintly at the sight of his cousin’s neat calligraphy sprawled on the front of it. Unfolding the letter, he was unsurprised to see that it also contained a photo of herself. She was a vain little thing, his cousin was but he could expect nothing less from a woman with the Malfoy name. 

Slipping the photo back inside the envelope – he would not feed her ego by even glancing at it because he had a inkling she would know – he turned back to read the letter: 

_Dearest Draco,_

_It has been too long since I have last saw you but I am in full confidence that I am still the better looking of the two of us. I regret that I was not able to visit you these holidays but Aunt Cissa reassures me that you have not held it against me. I did not bother informing her that I had expected my absence would not be of any real loss to you._

He snorted at that, shaking his head at her. While he and his cousin had many things in common, they were prone to petty banter over anything and everything. From her outrageous shopping sprees in France to his unhealthy obsession with Potter and his two best friends. It was all done in good fun and they never stayed mad at each for too long. He would never admit it to her but he cared for her very dearly and would not see her gone for too long. It was awfully boring around the Manor without her mischievous smile popping up every time he turned around. 

_I know, I know. You missed me dearly, I see there is no need to deny it any longer._

He scowled at the paper and wondered if she had cast a charm that allowed it to respond to his thoughts. He wouldn’t put it past her, she was as intelligent and she was cunning and with her advanced curriculum, she would be learning numerous complex charms that surpassed even his knowledge. He reminded himself to go to the library when he could and to research any books related to mind magics. 

_I have good news for you then, Cousin. In the case that Aunt Cissa and Uncle Lucius did not inform you, the notorious Triwizard Tournament has been continued for this school year between our wizarding schools as well as Durmstrang Institute. I have been asked to accompany the representatives from Beauxbatons despite the fact that I am barely a fourth-year student. It is a great honour to be asked and I admit to being excited at the chance to witness the famed Tournament that had been discontinued due to its dangerously high death toll. Although, I am curious as to why they have chosen to continue it this year, out of seemingly nowhere. I might have to question Uncle when I see him next._

Draco looked up from the letter in shock. Dangerously high death toll indeed. It was a wonder that Dumbledore let them hold it at Hogwarts. What was that oaf thinking? With their history and penchant for trouble? Did he not realize yet that as long as Harry Potter attended Hogwarts, danger would be afoot? What was more dangerous than a game that was notorious for ending the lives of countless students? 

It was confirmed than. Dumbledore really _**had**_ lost it. 

_Do not mistake me, Draco. I am excited to see you too, and to be introduced to your friends for the first time. Please give Pansy my love and tell her I will see her soon._

_Until then, do not miss me too much._

_Love dearly,_

_Cecilia._

Draco fingered the little sketch of a peacock on the bottom right hand corner and felt his eyes soften at the small afternote that threatened him if she found he had been cruel to the birds. He really did miss her and – 

_Wait, did she say that she was coming to Hogwarts?_

“Well don’t you look paler than usual?” a voice drawled from the doorway of his previously quiet compartment. If he weren’t currently having a crisis, he would be annoyed by the interruption but there were more dire things to think about. 

For example, how to prevent a famous Tournament from taking place. 

“Is he okay?” someone whispered quietly, and he snapped his head up to glare at them. His best friends, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson stood side by side in the doorway and he beckoned them in hurriedly. 

“Well, what are you doing just standing there? Get in here!” he ordered in an urgent voice. 

The two exchanged questioning looks but did as he asked, taking a seat on the opposite side of the compartment. They levitated their luggage to the rack above his head before turning to him expectantly. When he didn’t say anything, staring at the letter in his hand as he rubbed his face in contemplation, Pansy rolled her eyes at him before commenting, “Why so touchy this morning, Draco?” 

“Pansy’s right. You usually get snappy around an hour in. What’s got your wand in a twist?” Blaise raised a brow at him. 

Draco shot him a look before wandering out loud, “I wonder if Father can get to the Ministry in time before…..” 

“For Salazar’s sake!” Pansy exclaimed impatiently, leaning forward to rip the letter out of his hands and leaning back when the blonde boy made a lunge for it, something akin to horror spreading over his face as he tried to scramble for it before she levelled her wand on him, tutting, “Ah, ah, ah! You have barely taken your eyes off this letter since we’ve arrived. What’s so special – < em>oh my! Cecily wrote to you!” 

A wicked gleam crept into Pansy’s golden eyes as she read over the letter, a horrible smirk curling up on her ruby lips. Draco resisted the urge to shudder at the familiar expression and knew that any chance of stopping this terrible, terrible turn of events was destroyed as soon as his friend took hold of the letter. 

“So, dear Cecily will be joining us,” she purred in delight, passing it to Blaise to read as she held out her hand to Draco, “Give it here, Draco.” 

“I have no idea what you mean.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes before fixing him with a deadpan look as she told him, “I am not an idiot. I know that that Cecily sends a photo of herself whenever she sends letters – “ 

“Only because you hoard them for some ungodly reason – “ 

“ _ **Give me the photo, Draco.**_ ” 

Knowing there was no winning – she would force his hand if she had to – he passed over the envelope, muttering to her, “I swear to Salazar, Pans, you have an addiction.” 

“It is hard _not_ to get addicted to Cecilia Malfoy,” she murmured back to him, her brow cocked as if he shouldn’t be surprised – and really, he was anything but – before she slipped two fingers into the envelope, pulling out the picture and holding it to the sunlight so that she might get a better look. 

Something akin to a genuine smile appeared on Pansy’s face and for a brief second, Draco could not find it within himself to be annoyed at her or his cousin. It was rare that anything genuine passed on their faces when they were out in public, especially something as soft as the look the raven haired girl wore. 

Any annoyance quickly resurrected when the wicked gleam returned as she slid her gaze from Draco to Blaise knowingly before she lowered the photo from the sun to pass to the dark skinned boy on her right as she drawled, “Blaise, you haven’t met Cecily yet, have you?” 

“Haven’t had the pleasure, I’m afraid,” he replied with a grin, playing along with their favourite game, _Annoy the hell out of Draco Malfoy_. He happened to be the best so far, second only to Pansy and as he plucked the photograph out of her hands, never looking away from his best mate’s glare, he felt like he was still winning as he looked away to inspect the photo for himself, “Let’s see – “ 

His jaw dropped as he got a good look at her and he thought for sure that he was looking at one of those creatures that were rumoured to lure men to their deaths with just their beauty alone. Platinum blonde hair spiraled down her shoulders and back in curls, and he could see the light shine off of them as she brushed them off her shoulder, throwing a smirk worthy of her family name back at the camera. Her eyes were the same silver as her cousin’s but they held the same wicked gleam of the dark haired girl beside him and he wondered if the two of them reuniting in Hogwarts of all places was as frightening of a prospect as Draco made it out to be. 

“A beauty, isn’t she?” Pansy whispered devilishly in his ear and he leaned to the side to get away from her, holding out the picture towards her as if it would be enough to fend her off. 

“Just darling, Pans, now would you mind?!” he exclaimed, waving the picture for her to take, “You know how much I value personal space.” 

“Unless, of course, there is a beautiful witch involved.” 

“Unless, of course, there is a beautiful witch involved,” Blaise nodded along in agreement, not realizing the trap he had just walked into until he caught Draco shaking his head urgently. 

_Oh, Salazar save me! I did not just say that out loud!_

Gulping, he chanced a glance at the dark-haired girl and found her already staring holes into the side of his head and tried to smile. Fortunately, it came out more as a grimace and it seemed to communicate enough of his regret that Pansy just huffed, flipping her hair, and turning away from him. 

Feeling like he dodged a hex – _barely_ – Blaise wracked his mind for a way to charm her into forgiving him and turned to Draco, clearing his throat before asking, “So, this cousin of yours? Why does she not go to Hogwarts with the rest of us?” 

His best friend leaned back in his seat with his hands clasped in his lap as he replied, “I suppose it was what her mother wished before she died. I’ve never given it much thought really.” 

“Cecily’s mother was your father’s sister?” Blaise guessed, turning to confirm with Pansy, who looked quite uncomfortable with the topic, “Is that right?” 

“Yes, my Aunt Charlotte. She died during the First Wizarding War,” Draco nodded as he replied hastily, his tone implying that he didn’t wish to elaborate further. 

Blaise respected that. The death of a family member was never of great concern for him, his father having passed when he was younger and neither him nor his mother had any siblings to concern themselves over. Blaise need not fret over his own brothers and sisters, they were competent wizards and witches with the necessary funds, magics and wits to keep themselves out of significant trouble. In fact, they kept so low under the radar that very few remembered that Amara Zabini had more than one child with her first husband before he passed. It was husbands’ number two to seven that held the media’s eye. 

However, just because he himself did not have much experience with deaths in the family – not counting his mother’s husbands for neither husbands nor their deaths were considered in great sadness or with great consideration, there were just so many of them, you see – it did not mean he was blind to feeling sympathy for those that lived lives otherwise very different from his own. 

So, he nodded before moving back to his first question, “So, has she ever thought of coming to Hogwarts?” 

“Why?” Pansy smirked, golden eyes once again glittering with mirth, “Are you not satisfied with just a photo, Blaise dear?” 

He sent her a glare to cut it out before Draco got the wrong idea about his opinions of his cousin and instead turned back to his friend, who tilted his head as he considered the question before shaking it as he replied dismissively, “Cecily has never said anything that indicated she might be interested in attending. In fact – “ 

They watched as Draco straightened up with his usual arrogant smirk, one that had Blaise and Pansy slumping against each other with very unimpressed looks as he gloated, ““Father actually considered sending _me_ to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know? He knows the Headmaster, you see and – “ 

A loud creak echoed through the compartment causing them all to stiffen up in suspicion, eyes all narrowed at the spot just above Draco’s head. The blonde haired boy sent Pansy a look, the girl smoothly retrieving her wand from her skirts and aiming it at the wall just as Draco stood up. 

“ _Pervidere_ ,” she whispered as she flicked her wand in a spiral motion and they watched quietly as the wall wavered and turned translucent like a glass screen, revealing the face of Hermione Granger on the other side. 

The Slytherins looked on in curious amusement as the bushy haired girl leaned back from what must be the compartment wall, glaring at her hands that were plastered to it, knowing very well that they gave her away. She didn’t dare move though, presumably taking the chance that the Slytherins next door might have missed it entirely. 

Pansy and Blaise turned to Draco, waiting to see what he would do and watched on as he leaned in to inspect the Muggleborn’s nervous face, his grey eyes staring into hers with such an intensity that the dark haired girl shifted uncomfortably, feeling strangely like what she was witnessing was something intimate and personal to the boy. Draco continued to stare at Granger, even as the charm wore off and the wooden surface of the wall returned. 

When he turned to them with a thoughtful expression, they made no move to mention what they had witnessed. Instead, Blaise gestured to the wall with a smirk, his eyes dancing in a silent question of _Anyone want to have a little fun with our eavesdroppers?_

Draco grinned at that and stood up, gesturing dramatically as he said, “Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore – the man’s such a Mudblood lover – and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort of riff-raff. But Mother didn’t like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually _learns_ them, not just the defence rubbish we do…” 

They heard a small, feminine growl of indignation before the door to the compartment beside theirs clicked shut and they all burst out laughing. 

“Ah, Granger is a swotty little thing, don’t you agree?” Blaise asked with a side long glance at Draco, who had fell on the seat beside him with a small smile on his face as he stared at the wall. 

“She is indeed.” 

“Although, I would never have thought her bold enough to eavesdrop – “ 

“I don’t know about that, Pans,” Blaise drawled knowingly, once again giving Draco a playful look, “I seem to remember Draco returning to the common rooms last year with a nasty bruise on his nose and dried blood on his robes.” 

The blonde boy’s head flew up as he glared at the Italian boy in shock, “Why in Merlin would you think that little Mudblood had anything to do with that?” 

“I am _extremely_ perceptive – “ 

“Theo told you, didn’t he?” 

Blaise let out a mock gasp, hand flying to his chest as he whispered “How _dare_ you suggest such a thing!” 

“Theo told you,” Draco nodded as he shot the door a seething glare, “I’m going to kill him. Where is he, anyway?” 

“Ah, well Gregory and Vincent weren’t at the station when we arrived nor did we find them anywhere on board,” Pansy drawled in boredom as she inspected her nails, newly polished and glistening as thunder and lightning lit the sky outside the window, “So, I sent dear Theo to find them. Would you like to go search for them?” 

Draco considered it for a moment, prepared to refuse the offer of leaving the compartment on the off chance that any of the younger years try to steal it from them until he remembered the nervous expression on Granger’s face when she thought she might have been caught eavesdropping and he grinned. If they went for a walk, he could let the little swot think she got away with her misdeeds, let her get comfortable. Then, they would come back and he could correct that bold streak - 

Before he knew it, he was nodding at them both and had done a full sweep of the train before they made it back to their compartment, though not without some confectionery they bought from the Trolley lady when she tried to pass them on her way to some first years. By the time they sidled up outside of the Gryffindor’s compartment, Pansy was sucking on a Blood-Flavoured Lollypop, the exact same shade as her lipstick while Blaise was nibbling on his Liquorice Wand. 

They heard the Weasel gloating about his position in Top Box – it was pissing Granger off for some reason by the looks she was giving him - and Draco thought it was the perfect time to interrupt for the sake of once again having the satisfaction of putting the ginger monstrosity in his place. 

“The first and last time in your life, Weasley.” 

#### The Present

Truthfully, he had originally planned to steer clear of the three Gryffindors after their confrontation in the forest during the riots at the World Cup, but it seemed that it was not meant to be. Putting aside the fact that he made the choice to go find Theon, Crabbe and Goyle of his own volition and with the explicit intent of coming back to torment Granger and her friends, it was fun to take stabs at the things that made Weasel so obviously insecure. 

However, as Granger’s unimpressed gaze turned to him from where she sat beside Longbottom – now _that_ was a disaster of a boy – he felt something burn in him. He quickly identified this disturbing sensation as anger for the nerve on the girl and his lips curled up into a sneer when she saw her roll her eyes away from him to her book, dismissing him like his presence didn’t matter, like it didn’t affect her, like it didn’t put her on edge. 

_She should be on edge for daring to eavesdrop on our private conversations!_

“Don’t remember asking you to join us, Malfoy,” Potter muttered from where he was propped up on the window seat, Weasley’s luggage at his feet and opened for everyone to see. Draco opened his mouth to teach the prat a little something about respect when he saw the most gaudiest, dustiest looking clothing peeking out from the red head’s luggage and pointed at the mouldy lace cuff hanging out of it with disgust. 

“Weasley…what is _that_?” 

He was genuinely concerned for what was attached to the clothing and wouldn’t have dared touch it if he hadn’t seen the Weasel’s face turn as red as his flaming hair as he made a move as if to stuff it back in and out of his sight. Draco made a dive for it and snatched it out of the case before Weasel closed it, holding it up for the whole compartment to see between the thumb and forefinger of his dragon hide gloves and scrunched his face up at it. 

“Pansy, Blaise, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” he asked his friends on either side of them, both of them gaping at the dress robes – if you could call them that – pinched between his fingers, “Weasley, you weren’t _seriously_ thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean – they were very fashionable in the 1800s – “ 

His laughter was cut off as Weasley ripped them out of the blonde Slytherin’s grasp, throwing open the lid to his chest and tossing them in without a second glance, slamming the chest angrily as he yelled, “Eat dung, Malfoy!” 

Draco shook his head with a smile and a shrug before leaning against the doorway, holding out a hand for Blaise to pass him a Liquorice Wand. He brought the candy up to lips, taking a bite before gesturing to the lot of them with it, “So….going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There’s money involved as well, you know….you’d be able to afford some decent robes if you won….” 

“What are you talking about?” Weasley snapped, shaking his head at the Slytherins like they were crazy as he turned around to lug his great chest of outdated and worn to the thread clothes above his head and onto the rack above them. 

Draco rolled his eyes, realizing he would have to dumb it down for the git if he had any hope of achieving any sort of communication him. He had shared with classes with the Weasel for almost four years. It was like watching a baby ride a broom. Utterly laughable but in the end, frustrating. If it weren’t for Granger, he doubted that the idiot would have passed his first year. 

Ignoring the fact he gave the Muggleborn another compliment – he really needed to stop doing that before he was forced to check himself into St Mungo’s to get an evaluation to make sure he hadn’t been severely cursed, he repeated the question as if he was speaking to a baby trying to ride a broom, slowly and very clearly, “ _Are you going to enter?_ Or maybe you’ll leave the spotlight to Potter, hm? _You_ never miss a chance to show off, do you, ScarFace? 

The sound of a book snapping shut silenced whatever Potter was about to reply – good riddance, Draco could not go another idiotic retort from either him or the Weasel – that was, of course, until he saw Granger get to her feet, storming up to the door with annoyance burning in her brown eyes. 

Her hand gripped the door tightly as she gritted her teeth and told him, “Either explain what you’re going on about or _go away_ , Malfoy!” 

He found himself leaning into her and murmured, “Testy, aren’t we?” 

“Yes, well, most would be after spending more than five minutes with the likes of you,” she shot back and it was an impressive shot, more witty than Weasley’s dead ended ‘Eat dung, Malfoy’. 

If it weren’t for her unfortunate blood status, he would admire her for putting up with them until he remembered that she herself wasn’t the easiest witch to get along with either, even for a Muggleborn. 

“Count yourself lucky that someone like me has the patience to be in your presence for that long!” he chuckled maliciously. 

Granger rolled her eyes at him before waving her hand towards the corridor, “Oh _please_ , Malfoy, don’t torture yourself! Do yourself a favour and get out of our compartment!” 

“Granger, while you still have your wits about you, get out of the compartment before you lose the ability to maintain Top Spot in our level,” he sneered, sliding his grey eyes over to where Weasley was glowering at them from over her shoulder, “It’s a wonder you have any brains left after spending so much time with this lot!” 

“Jealous, Malfoy?” she whispered tauntingly, her brown eyes flashing knowingly. He reared back at the suggestion until he realized she was talking about her still achieving Top Spot and snorted. 

“You wish, Granger.” 

The two stood there for a second, faces close enough that they were breathing in each other’s air – which he would _never_ have done before because he usually didn’t want to take the chance that the kind of moronic traits Weasley and Potter possessed were contagious and had possibly spread to the Muggleborn, whose kind were rumoured to have multiple if not a world full of diseases. _That_ was how angry he was at her, for making him feel this anger, this much in a disarray, that he chanced diseases that the Wizarding World hadn't known since the Dark Ages. 

It seemed something horrifying had already plagued him because he found himself growing quite content glaring at her like that, even more so that he didn’t mind that she was glaring at him too. At least she was acknowledging him, unlike her first reaction when she saw him standing at the doorway of her compartment and just turned away from him like he wasn’t worth her attention. 

He was so content that he hadn’t noticed how close he was until Pansy’s hand landed on his shoulder and she pulled him back to murmur quietly to him, “Come on, Draco. Astoria just sent me a note to tell me that she sent Theo and the boys to our compartment – quite a relief, that is. I don’t know if I would have been able to send someone to escort them to school if they had missed the train again!"” 

“You go on ahead,” Draco murmured back to her, his eyes never straying from Granger’s, “I’ll be there in a moment.” 

Pansy stared at him blankly for a moment before she nodded, spinning on her heel to walk down the corridor to their compartment next door. Blaise waited for him, leaning against the compartment on the other side of the corridor, watching intently as he chewed on another Liquorice Wand – _Merlin, how many did he buy?!_

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his friend, instead choosing to smile gleefully at the occupants of Granger’s compartment, ignoring her presence completely as he informed them, “You really _don’t_ know, do you? _You_ , Weasley, have a brother _and_ father at the Ministry and you don’t even know? My father told me about it ages ago – “ 

That was a lie. Cecily’s letter was the first he heard of it but he would say anything to get on the Weasel’s nerves and he knew that remarks about his family were the best way to go with doing just that. 

“Heard it from Cornelius Fudge himself, he did. Then again, Father’s always associated with the top people of the Ministry. Maybe your father’s too _junior_ to know about it, Weasley. Sad but probably true. Probably don’t talk about important stuff in front of him.” 

Laughing it off with a shrug, he sent one last taunting look at Granger before he nodded to Blaise that he was done, both of them setting off down the corridor without a glance back, even as glass shattered from the doorway he had just vacated. 

Once they made it back to their compartment and the door was closed, his friends levelled him with an a puzzled look, one that he chose to ignore in favour of spelling his luggage down from the rack above him, knowing that it would be about time to change into their robes. 

Blaise was the first one to speak up, “Malfoy, what the hell was that about?” 

Draco decided to try for nonchalance and didn’t even look up from where he was pilfering for his tie as he murmured back, “What are you talking about?” 

“You and Granger! _Merlin_ , mate, it looked like you were – “ 

Quicker than he could blink, the Italian boy had a wand to his throat and on the other end of it was his friend glaring down at him with a look that he couldn't quite place as he growled, “ _Nothing_. It looked like it was nothing because there was _nothing_. Do you understand me, Blaise?” 

His friend, never one to back down – _how Gryffindor-ish_ – merely jutted out his chin and snarked, “Didn’t look like it from my end, mate.” 

“Your end happened to be behind me so, like I said, it looked like it was nothing. In fact, it would have been _better_ than nothing because you would have been looking at the back of my head,” Draco mused with an arrogant smirk, “You’re lucky to be one of the people to see that, Zabini.” 

They glared at each other for a moment before Blaise laughed, “Don’t give me that! I’m not like Pansy here who practically _glows_ when you walk through the door!” 

Pansy gasped and slapped his arm for that, grounding out, “ _I do no such thing!_ Whoever spread that rumour last year is a dead witch or wizard when I find them!” 

“Oh, come of it, Pansy! We all _know_ – “ 

“Blaise, you barely know first year Charms. What you know holds no credibility – “ 

“ _Excuse me!_ I happen to be very _proficient_ in Charms, of the magic and of the witch variety – “ 

“ _Puh-lease!_ The only thing charming about you is the fact that whenever you’re outside of the Commons, you seemingly have nothing to say!” 

“Do you want to hear what everyone thinks _you_ say out of the Commons? _'Oh, Draco, Draco, does it hurt terribly? Want me to kiss it better?_ ” 

The sound of three more slaps echoed through the compartment and Draco grinned in relief as his two friends focused on insulting each other rather than on what happened between him and Granger. Blaise’s question would always be answered with a firm ‘nothing’, but the truth was that he had no real answers to give. 

Not when he himself had no clue what had happened nor how it made him feel. He dreaded even dwelling about it for a minute more and decided to turn his thoughts to other matters at hand, like how he was going to stop his cousin from ruining his reputation or how he was going to keep her from spinning her charming smile on his friends. There was only room for one Malfoy at Hogwarts and he wasn’t going to give Cecily the chance to team up with Pansy and replace him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter and of the fic! The comments are open to all and everyone!


	4. The Welcoming of Fresh Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “As I was saying,” Professor Dumbledore continued from where he had been interrupted, “We have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”
> 
> “YOU’RE JOKING!” the Weasley twins exclaimed loudly, their excitement breaking the tension in the room and causing nearly all the students to break out in laughter.   
> Dumbledore chuckled alongside them, and while he was addressing the two, Pansy leaned against Draco to whisper in his ear.
> 
> “Do you think that Cecily will be entering into the Tournament?”
> 
> Draco scoffed, “And risk ruining her hair? She might rival you in bloodlust, Pansy, but she has more money, fame and glory then one girl could possibly need. She’s probably here for the spectacle of it all. Merlin knows that’s the only reason that girl has for anything. She did say that she was only coming to accompany those who were representing Beauxbatons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking forward to hearing what you guys think of this fic!

Water glistened on the floors of the Great Hall when Hermione, Ron and Harry arrived. The entire room was decked out in its usual golden splendor, the candles providing the warmth that the outside storm had robbed them off although, they could not do much about the slippery floor, especially when it only grew more hazardous by Peeves’ little pranks. Hermione massaged her neck where Professor McGonagall grabbed it to support herself after she slipped over. If the poltergeist weren’t already dead, she would think that their Head of House would have murdered him a hundred times over for his mischief. 

They walked past the Slytherin table, ignoring Malfoy and his friends who smirked at them with little twinkles in their eyes, as if they knew how Ron had raged after they left the compartment. They probably heard the whole thing, as Hermione proved earlier, the walls between the compartments were quite thin and almost all sound came through, even more so with the doors open. 

The trio took their seats at the Gryffindor table on the far side of the room where they were greeted by a beaming Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, “Good evening.” 

“Says who?” Harry frowned down as he took off his trainers and emptied them of the water that saturated them all over the floor, “Hope they hurry up with the Sorting, I’m starving.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend’s rudeness, nodding politely at the ghost who floated off to a merrier group of Gryffindors and she sighed. Hermione, although hungry too, decided to keep her mouth shut and not act like a brat, knowing that being rude would only make everyone else angry and she hoped that, despite the maddening encounter with Malfoy on the train, that they could have a chance of avoiding such trouble this year. 

_Get real, Hermione. If you think that any year that starts off with the literal sign of Voldemort will be lacking in trouble, you might prove Malfoy right about having lost your brain. You don’t want to do that do you?_

As she glared over her shoulder at the Slytherin’s across the Hall, she caught sight of Malfoy grinning at something Zabini must have told him. He was pushing back his slicked back blonde hair from his forehead – _why the hell does his hair look immaculate even after he went through that storm with the rest of us?_ – before he looked forward and caught her eye. His own eyes widened before they started shimmering with – uh, yes, smugness. 

_Probably because you’re still staring, you daft girl!_

She pulled a face at him before swinging around, gritting her teeth at the knowledge that she probably just fed his ego by looking at him. 

_Merlin, I definently never want to prove Malfoy of all people right!_

Hermione turned her attention back to the boys, putting the Slytherin boy out of her mind. Harry was indulging the third year Colin Creevey in a conversation about his brother who was joining them this year as a first year. Harry gave the younger boy an awkward smile and raised his two fingers, crossed over one another, before he turned to Ron and Hermione with a puzzled frown. 

“Brothers and sisters usually go in the same houses, don’t they?” 

“Oh no, not necessarily,” Hermione shook her head, gesturing to the Ravenclaw table, “Pavarti Patil’s twin’s in Ravenclaw, and they’re identical, you’d think they’d be together, wouldn’t you?” 

Harry nodded in understanding before turning to the front, and when she followed his eyes to the high table where the professors and staff sat, she found herself staring at the empty chairs littered up and down it’s length. The absences of Hagrid and McGonagall were expected, both of them doing their respective duties in preparation for the Sorting Ceremony but there was another chair that would normally be filled. 

“Where’s the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?” she wondered out loud. 

She knew that they had a new one every year since first, and it was strange that one would not have already been selected yet. Although, with the rumours that the position was cursed and with the history of past teachers to only encourage such rumours, it would be perfectly understandable if witches or wizards looking for a job would shy away from it 

“Maybe they couldn’t get anyone?” 

Ron didn’t seem to have a care who would be teaching their classes for this year as he thumped the table impatiently, throwing back his head as he moaned, “Oh, _hurry up!_ I could eat a bloody Hippogriff, I’m so hungry!” 

As if McGonagall herself heard him, the great double doors of the Hall swung open, silencing befalling the entire room as their Head of House led the procession of cold, shivering and soaking wet first years down the middle aisle between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables to the steps that led up to the high table. 

Hermione smiled as she watched one of the children, a little boy who was practically engulfed in Hagrid’s moleskin overcoat, saw Collin Creevey and gave him a thumbs up. She assumed this was the younger brother he was telling Harry about and it was all but confirmed when the little boy mouthed excitedly, ‘I fell in the lake!’ 

_No wonder he was blanketed with the great fur coat! The Great Lake would be as cold as ice in this weather, it was a wonder he did not get hypothermia from his quick dip!_

Before she could dwell on her concern about whether hypothermia was as taken seriously here as it was in the Muggle world, Professor McGonagall had put down the three-legged stool and the worn, old wizard hat on top of it. Everybody was silent as they waited, staring expectantly and Hermione couldn’t help but grin as one of the first years asked if that was the Sorting Hat that sorted them. 

_Ah, a clever one he is if he knows about the Sorting Hat. I wonder if he has read Hogwarts: A History?_

Suddenly, the Hat burst to life in a jolly song. Hermione found herself roaring with the rest of her house as the Hat told the first years of Gryffindor, having a great old time as they applauded: 

_“By Gryffindor, the bravest were,_

_Prized far beyond the rest.”_

The Ravenclaw table took a far more polite approach and merely clapped quietly when the Hat sang of their house, smiling welcomingly when a few first years turned to look at the table: 

_“For Ravenclaw, the cleverest,_

_Would always be the best.”_

The Hufflepuffs whooped and waved when the song came to their part, winking playfully at the first years who had the courage to wave back: 

_“For Hufflepuff, hard workers were,_

_Most worthy of admiration.”_

Finally, the Slytherins sat up straight, their house pride radiating off of them as they too clapped for those that they knew to be true, finding the wandering, curious eyes of the children in the crowd and nodding back at them as the Hat sang: 

_“And power-hungry Slytherin,_

_Loved those of great ambition.”_

When the Sorting Hat finished it’s song, the Great Hall erupted in cheers and thunderous applause, and Hermione watched as the children’s face broke out in giant grins, their pale cheeks glowing red as the feeling of Hogwarts warmed them from the cold. 

“That’s not the song it sang when it sorted us,” Harry remarked, a bit puzzled by the change in tune. 

“Sings a different one every year,” Ron explained, looking a bit bored, “It’s got to be a pretty boring life, hasn’t it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year making up the next one.” 

The two fell silent again as Professor McGonagall climbed up the stairs, taking a position behind the stool and unrolling the scroll that contained the names of this year’s first years. The first boy to be called was placed into Ravenclaw and when they all watched as he hurried to his seats, Hermione noticed that Harry’s gaze lingered a bit too long on a certain Ravenclaw seeker. 

Muffling a grin, she turned her attention back to the next boy that was called up to the stool, a boy by the name of Malcom Baddock. He was quite tall for a first year, with dark brown hair that was neatly combed back and calm, dark eyes that closed for just a second before he took a seat on the chair. While it was clear he was nervous from his white knuckled grip, he straightened up confidently. 

Hermione’s eyes softened as she tried to guess which house he would be sorted into. Ravenclaw, maybe? 

“ **SLYTHERIN!** ” 

Her mouth gaped a bit as the boy stood up with a small smile before taking the steps one at a time towards the table that had broken out with loud cheers. Her eyes followed the boy as he was met by a seventh-year girl, one whose silver badge glinted brightly even from all the way across the hall. The girl had her dark brown hair pulled back in a low bun and her dark eyes creased at the corners as she led the boy to a spot at the table, sitting down beside him and introducing him to different people. 

She watched curiously as the girl pointed to Malfoy, who surprisingly nodded at the boy before turning back to the proceedings. Hermione didn’t know how to feel at watching this seemingly welcoming display from the Slytherin house and turned to shoot a look at Fred and George who had started making hissing noises at the announcement. 

Whatever her own feelings about the Slytherins, the first years shouldn’t be treated like that. Besides the common denominator of a belief in blood purity that most Slytherins she encountered seemed to share, she didn’t feel it right to assume that every single Slytherin shared those beliefs nor should eleven year olds be treated in kind. 

As the last boy was sorted into Hufflepuff, Professor Dumbledore had approached the podium and was looking around the Great Hall at the new and old faces looking back up at him and he smiled. 

“I only have two words to say to you,” the old wizard began in a deep, gentle voice that resonated through the entire hall, “Tuck in!” 

“Hear, hear!” Harry and Ron rose their goblets in a cheer, their loud voices causing laughter to break out amongst the Gryffindor table as the empty dishes on the tables transformed into a glorious feast. 

Hermione met Ginny’s eyes from where she sat between Fred and George, and the red headed girl smiled back at her nodding before turning to race her brothers to the kidney pie. Ron loaded up his plate until it was brimming with roast, mashed potatoes and gravy while Nearly Headless Nick looked on mournfully above them. Harry and Hermione shared a laugh before following suit, enjoying the feeling of finally being back at Hogwarts again. 

\- 

On the other side of the Hall, the Slytherins were chattering quietly amongst themselves, informing the new bloods of everything they needed to know. After Gemma Farley, the Head Girl for the year, stood up to personally welcome the Slytherin first years to the rest of the house, they did their best to accommodate them, especially after seeing the lack of enthusiasm from the rest of the school. 

As callous and as cold as they may present themselves to be, one of the minor values was Fraternity, a strong belief that the every single member of the house would be loyal to not only the good of the house but the good of those in the house. That meant that it was their duty to maintain the pride of Slytherin by demonstrating it was a house worthy of their pride. 

Even Draco Malfoy, who was somewhat known for his dismissal of anyone outside his immediate circle, graced the first years with a nod as Gemma introduced them. Most were Half-Bloods, he noted as their last names were listed off, although some had faint connections to previously Pureblooded families. Besides, if the Hat saw to it that Slytherin was where they belonged, they would prove themselves in time. 

As Dumbledore declared that they could feast, he wasted no time in piling up his plate with the medium rare steak and the roast potatoes, putting some Yorkshire pudding aside for himself so that none of his house mates thought of hoarding them all. Pansy giggled at him as he tried to sneak a third before Blaise noticed and batted his hand away. 

“ _Merlin_ , don’t you think you’ve had enough?” 

Draco rolled his eyes before gesturing at the boy, “Oh, and the four on your plate is quite plenty?” 

“Subtly is the key if you want to succeed in the world.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes at the dark-skinned boy before pointing her fork at him, “Blaise, you’re fourteen. You aren’t in any position to be giving business advice.” 

“Again, with trying to invalidate my credentials, Parkinson?” 

“You don’t have credentials, now eat your food,” the raven-haired girl chided before turning back to take some of the Peppermint Humbugs. 

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her before remarking, “Did your mother never tell you not to eat sweets? They'll rot your teeth, you know?” 

Pansy sniffed at him, tucking a short strand of straight black hair behind her ear before pointing out, “Coming from the boy who bought a trolley’s worth of Liquorice Wands? _Don’t make me laugh!_ ” 

“Good evening,” Theodore Nott Jnr, of Theo as he preferred to be called, appeared on the other side of Blaise, straightening up the collar of his shirt under his robes as he took a seat, “Did we miss much?” 

Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe also took their seats, mumbling apologetically to Pansy about making her search the train for them. The dark-haired girl sighed, waving them off as she answered Theo’s question, “Only the Sorting but that went as you would expect.” 

Theo glanced down the table, searching for any new faces as he asked, “How many do we have this year?” 

Pansy’s lips curled up into a smile as she pointed them out, nodding at the first years when they looked up at the sound of their names. Theo nodded once before scooping up some roast potatoes onto his plate before eating his dinner in silence. 

Draco took a sip of his pumpkin juice after cleaning off his plate and made himself comfortable by staring at the lightning strikes outside but before he could turn around completely, his eyes were once again drawn to the Gryffindor table and to the bushy haired girl that sat at it. He noticed that she wasn’t glaring at him anymore but had rather turned to glower at the windows, looking quite put off. Her plate was pushed far out of her reach and her food looked like it hadn’t been touched. 

He scrunched up at her being so blatantly wasteful and turned to gaze out at the night sky being illuminated by a particularly vibrant strike of blue lightning when a strange feeling settled into the dark alcoves of his hear. 

It was a feeling of genuine concern that the witch wasn’t eating enough food. 

With that, he pushed away his own plate and felt his appetite dissipate along with his good mood so much so that when dessert replaced the first course, he couldn’t glance at it without feeling sick to his stomach with the knowledge that he even felt a inch of worry for the Muggleborn. 

\- 

After everyone polished off their plates, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet and approached the podium. The Great Hall falling into silence once more drew both Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger out of their thoughts, their attention dragging to where their headmaster stood. 

The old wizard smiled as he beheld them, “Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.” 

Hermione huffed from where she sat at the Gryffindor table, her eyes starring daggers at where her plate used to rest, now vanished along with everyone else’s, and mumbled to herself, “I have a few notices I would like to give too, Professor.” 

Ron and Harry raised an eyebrow at their best friend’s snarky comment, very uncommon for the girl who usually gave the utmost respect to both teachers and staff alike, no more so than to Albus Dumbledore. It seemed that the revelation about house elves working in the kitchens angered the girl more than they first thought. 

It made sense, when you thought about it. After witnessing the way the house elf, Winky, was treated at the Cup, by her own master no less, had turned Hermione’s thoughts onto how other house elves must be treated, especially by upstanding members of society. By upstanding, she mainly meant pureblood members of society, as she was told that they were usually the only ones who could afford elves. 

To think these creatures were bought and sold to wizards and witches made her sick to the stomach, especially when she remembered learning about the slavery that oft occurred in the muggle world. No one deserved to be treated lesser, for she knew the feeling better than most and it was not one she wished on anyone else. 

It seemed that their headmaster had continued talking through her irritation and had finished up notifying the students that the list of forbidden objects had been lengthened and had moved on to the standard rules such as, “As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.” 

Ron nudged Harry with his elbow, grinning widely. Merlin knows that they had broken those rules a number of times in the three years they had attended Hogwarts. 

Hermione shot Ron a look, one that obviously warned him of being too boastful. She wouldn’t want any of the first years getting it into their heads that breaking the rules was acceptable behavior, hypocritical as it may be to say. Her and her friends had their reasons for breaking the rules that they did. 

There was a difference between fooling around with your friends in the Forbidden Forest for fun and going there to talk to a massive arachnid in order to clear your groundkeepers name and to find out what was happening in the secret chamber underneath the school that housed a basilisk. 

_One of them was for the greater good_ , Hermione told herself firmly but she could not hide how her lips twitched as Harry threw her a knowing look. 

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.” 

“ _What?!_ ” Harry lost the mirthful look in his eye as he gasped, his head snapping around to check with his fellow team mates on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. From further down the table, he saw Fred and George gapping like goldfish, opening and closing their mouths as if they were torn between shouting out their distraught and struggling with their loss of speech. 

Angelina Johnson had her head in her hands, muttering mournfully, “Thank Godric, Wood isn’t here to see this!” 

Alicia Spinet and Katie Bell were on either side of her, jaws hanging as they stared up at Professor Dumbledore as if waiting for the moment where the old wizard would boom out in laughter and tell them it was all one great big joke. 

Dumbledore clearly predicted this severe reaction from the students, especially those of the Gryffindor house and smiled placatingly, holding his wizened hands up to gesture for them to settle themselves and began, “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy – but I am sure you will enjoy it immensely. I have the great pleasure of announcing that this year at Hogwarts – “ 

A crack of lightning illuminated the room in a shocking blue that had many first years screaming in terror and confusion, the lightning causing a split in the ceiling, the warm illusion of a starry night sky to waver temporarily as the double doors of the Great Hall flew open with a bang. 

In the doorway, a cloaked man stood dripping with the rain from the tempest outside. He was leaning heavily on a long staff of twisted oak. Like the rest of the students, Harry leaned forward, his dark brows furrowed deeply as his eyes narrowed on the stranger. 

The candles, that had been blown out by the fierce storm, relit themselves one by one and as the candlesticks on either side of the door burned brightly once more, the stranger lowered his hood. Hermione couldn’t help the sharp gasp that left her at the sight of the man’s appearance. 

Shaking out his mane of greying grizzled hair, the stranger grunted as he started forward with a very pronounced limp, presumably what his staff was to aid him with. In fact, when Hermione took a closer look at him as he walked down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff table, she noticed that the man in fact had a wooden leg, it’s stilt looking alike the clawed feet of a beast. 

His face, on the other hand, was a twist of pale wrinkled skin and scar tissue, a ghastly sight that had one of the new first year Hufflepuffs shrinking back as he walked past their part of the table to stagger up the stairs. The man practically fell into Professor Dumbledore, who wrapped one arm around the man’s shoulders and with the other shook his hand. Although it was in the guise of greeting, Hermione, Harry and Ron could clearly see the two men engaging in hushed whispers, their unsmiling spaces hinting that whatever was said was no good news. 

Professor Dumbledore gestured to the empty seat at the staff table, the other teachers and staff dragging their chairs as close to the table as possible to avoid a confrontation with the man as he limped to his seat. Once he had fallen into his chair, the stranger dragged a plate of sausages and went through the most curious process of sniffing the food, before cutting it open with a knife he had dragged from his own pocket and began eating. 

But it wasn’t the twisted face of gnarled mouth and missing features that truly made the strange odd to Hermione. It was the man’s eye. Not the normal sized one that was dark and beady and currently fixed on the sausage he was eating. It was the other one, too large, too round to be his own as it whirled around the Great Hall, electric blue and seemingly taking in every single individual in the room with great suspicion. 

“May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Dumbledore introduced brightly, as if oblivious to the frightening silence in the room, “Professor Moody.” 

The old wizard began clapping joyously, as he did whenever he introduced any and all new staff that would be joining them for the new school year. The Great Hall was silent though, all except for Professor Dumbledore’s clapping, only joined by Hagrid’s a second later. 

\- 

At the table on the opposite side of the hall from the Gryffindors, the Slytherins straightened up, their hands clenched on the table in front of them. Half of them had reared back at the sight of the infamous Auror, their mouths twisting up in snarls and sneers as they remembered the family members this man had single handedly put into Azkaban. 

The other half just sat as still as possible, eyes narrowed on that electric blue eye that ran over all of them as if they were the ones he would bring in next. 

Pansy winced as she stared at the scarred faced Auror, her hand slipping up to grasp Draco’s arm. Draco looked down at the hand than at his friend but didn’t say a word. He could understand Pansy’s unease with this man, he was a horrid sight to look upon, especially after they had just eaten. Anyone ugly enough to disturb Pansy so seriously was one not to be taken lightly. But of course, he already knew that of the man they called Mad Eyed Moody. 

From across the table, Theo leaned back against Blaise’s shoulder, shaking slightly but his friend whispered harshly in his ear, “Come on, Theo. Straighten up, mate. Don’t let him see he’s got you rattled.” 

Shaking his head, the boy tried to follow in his house’s example, straightening up his back and stiffening his shoulders as he tried to compose his face in cold indifference, but his teeth grounded together with the effort. 

_If you’re weak, you’ll doom not only me, boy, but you as well_ , his father whispered in his head and the feeling of icy cold water ran down his body, numbing his bones and muscles. 

Until Theo, too, stared blankly at the Auror at the table, his fear chilling away at his innards as he sat waiting for Dumbledore to start talking again. 

“As I was saying,” Professor Dumbledore continued from where he had been interrupted, “We have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.” 

“ **YOU’RE JOKING!** ” the Weasley twins exclaimed loudly, their excitement breaking the tension in the room and causing nearly all the students to break out in laughter. 

Dumbledore chuckled alongside them, and while he was addressing the two, Pansy leaned against Draco to whisper in his ear. 

“Do you think that Cecily will be entering into the Tournament?” 

Draco scoffed, “And risk ruining her hair? She might rival you in bloodlust, Pansy, but she has more money, fame and glory then one girl could possibly need. She’s probably here for the spectacle of it all. Merlin knows that’s the only reason Cecily has for anything. She did say that she was only coming to accompany those who were representing Beauxbatons.” 

They turned back to Dumbledore as McGonagall coughed to pointedly remind him that the rest of the students were awaiting the information about the Tournament that would be taking place at their school and Draco groaned internally at the foolish old man they called a headmaster. 

“Where was I?” Dumbledore frowned quizzically, before his old eyes widened as he remembered, “Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament…..well, some of you will not know what this Tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.” 

Indeed, that is what the Slytherins students did and Draco found himself smirking over at the Gryffindor table as Dumbledore explained about how each school would send forth a champion to compete in three magical tasks. He droned on about how the Tournament was for the good of maintaining a good relationship between the three schools before getting to mentioning the high death toll the Tournaments became known for. 

Draco watched as Granger blanched, her brown skin paling as she glanced around at the rest of her housemates to deduce their reaction to this knowledge. Predictably, as Draco too moved his gaze up and down the tables of the three other houses, he found that they were all whispering excitedly amongst each other. 

“We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that, this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger,” Dumbledore reassured them, and Draco scoffed. 

Curiously, Granger had a very similar reaction, her jaw dropping incredulously as her head swiveled from their headmaster to where Potter sat across the table from her. 

_She probably came to the same conclusion I did_ , Draco thought stiffly, _Having Hogwarts host a game renown for killing off it’s participants whilst Potter is still here is just begging for all sorts of trouble._

_Oh, well_ , he shrugged, leaning back in his seat, _I guess it would make the games more interesting if we all got to watch Potter get himself killed for the fourth time in a row._

\- 

“The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Hallowe-en. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.” 

At the Gryffindor table, Hermione watched as Fred perked up, slamming his hands down excitedly as he hissed down the table at them, “I’m going for it!” 

He glanced at his twin to back him up and of course, George shot him a wicked grin, rubbing his shoulders as if he was hyping up before a fight. The two were all but bouncing in their seats at the thought of the fame, the glory, the riches – not surprising, considering their newfound interest in money. 

Hermione shook her head at them, leaning over to mutter to Harry and Ron, “This is _barbaric!_ Did he not hear about the death toll?” 

The boys ignored her, Ron was too busy egging his brother on with an almost contemplating look in his eyes – _he better not be thinking about joining these bloody death games!_ – which Harry was looking around the room, trying to pick out what other people might be thinking of participating. 

The witch threw herself back in her seat with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest as she thought, _Fine, let them all get themselves killed!_

Dumbledore spoke up once more and the room quickly descended into quiet, everyone curious as to what else he could tell them about the Tournament, “Even though I know all of you will be able to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age – that is to say, seventeen years or older – will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This – “ 

The room erupted in complaints and loud noises of outrage from the students, none more audible than the Weasley twins, who scrunched their noses up and joined in with the rest of their classmates. 

“ **THAT’S RUBBISH!** ” they cupped their hands over their mouth to shout, stirring on the rest of the school to get even more confident in voicing their opposition to the age restriction, “ **RUBBISH!** ” 

Dumbledore spoke over them all as if they were mere insects buzzing in his ear and when the school realized that he wasn’t taking notice of their complaints, they all faded off into annoyed huffs and mutters. 

“This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the Tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, no matter the precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage students hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champions.” 

The headmasters eyes flickered over to where Fred and George sat, and he gave them a knowing smile to which they answered with their most innocent faces and they had a feeling it was them that Dumbledore was addressing when he said, “I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.” 

As the old wizard turned his eyes away from the Weasley twins, they dropped their innocent charade and started whispering to each other conspiratorially, throwing subtle glares at Dumbledore. Hermione nodded her head in satisfaction, not seeing anything wrong with implementing the age restriction. If Hogwarts had to host the Tournament, at least the overseers were taking the proper precautions to ensure the safety of everyone involved. 

Hermione’s eyes drifted to Harry and they softened as they beheld her best friend as she thought to herself, _At least this way there is no chance Harry will be caught up in these dangerous games._

“The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!” 

\- 

In the middle of the chaos of students making their way out of the Great Hall, golden eyes glittered brightly as their own watched her classmates around the Great Hall. 

She watched as the Slytherin table moved to stand, Pansy Parkinson giggling softly as she joined her house in getting to their feet, holding onto Gregory Goyle’s arm when he offered it out to her to help her out of her seat – _my, my who knew that Goyle could be such a gentleman?_

“Chop chop?! Who does Dumbledore think he is? My governess?” 

Blaise Zabini laughed at his friend and Draco Malfoy rolled his eyes at them both as he pushed past them with Vincent Crabbe and Theo Nott following at his heels. Zabini must have made a comment about the blonde boy because both him and Parkinson smirked at each other before hurrying after their friends with Goyle bringing up the rear. 

Golden eyes turned to face the table behind her and found that the Weasley twins were still standing at the Gryffindor table, their brother Ron and his two friends Harry Potter and Hermione Granger waiting around impatiently. 

“They can’t do that!” one of the twins whined as he stared up at the staff table where Dumbledore sat talking with their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, “We’re seventeen in April. Why can’t we have a shot?” 

“They’re not stopping me entering!” the other twin declared defiantly, jutting out a jaw at the staff table as if daring Dumbledore to even try, “The champions’ll get to do all sorts of stuff you’d never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!” 

_That one reminds me too much of Ariel. Never knows when to quit_ , Golden eyes smirked to herself as she watched Hermione shoo them out of the Great Hall. 

“Beth?” 

Golden eyes snapped out of her thoughts. One of her good friends, Hannah Abbott, stood over her with a small smile playing on her lips. 

“Daydreaming again, Bethany?” Hannah mused playfully. 

Bethany Meadowes clambered over the long seat bench of the Hufflepuff table, brushing the wrangle of dark curls behind her shoulders as she laughed, “You know me, Abbott. Always dreaming.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re still hungry?” 

“I’m always hungry,” the dark-skinned girl replied as she linked arms with her friend, dragging her after the retreating Gryffindors. 

Hannah shook her head full of yellow blonde hair with a knowing smile, “You really need to stop bringing those herbs to school. You’re going to get caught!” 

Bethany shrugged, “I haven’t so far. Come on, Abbott, live a little!" 

“No one is going to be living if you keep smoking on school premises! You’re lucky Sprout is our Head of House and not Snape otherwise you would spend the school year screaming your head off in the dungeons with Filch!” 

“You’re right. I am lucky. If I ever run out of my own stash, I can snag some of Sprout’s!” 

Hannah threw back her head laughing, slapping her friend’s hand as she gasped, “You can’t say stuff like that!” 

“Please, you know it’s true. You guys should thank me – without me, you people wouldn’t know half the stuff that goes down in this castle!” Bethany whispered mysteriously, winking at Neville Longbottom as he hurried up the steps after the trio and the Weasley twins. 

Neville paused mid speech, turning bright red as he stared at the Hufflepuff girl in shock. The boy tried to hurry along but his feet got tangled up with one another and he tripped on one of the many trick stairs on the Hogwarts staircases. A suit of armor started laughing from the top of the stairs and Bethany pulled Hannah past the Gryffindors and down another staircase that led to the kitchens. 

When they were out of ear shot, Hannah slapped Bethany’s hand again, “You’re incorrigible!” 

“What? Neville’s cute when he blushes,” Bethany grinned. 

The blonde girl shook her head, “I don’t see it.” 

“I do. Take my word for it, he’s going to be a looker when he’s older,” the other girl insisted with a firm nod. 

Hannah cocked a brow at her in disbelief, “Don’t tell me you fancy Longbottom?” 

“Hey! You can think people are cute without fancying them!” Bethany defended. 

“Whatever you say!” 

“Oh, shove it, you!” Bethany laughed, pushing the blonde girl down the last of the stairs. The girls walked down the hallway, past the kitchens to the pile of large barrels stacked against the stone wall on the right-hand side of the corridor. 

Hannah stepped up the barrels, her fingers hovering over them until they came to still over the barrel in the middle of the second row, two from the bottom. Tapping out the rhythm of their Founder’s name, they waited a moment until the barrel opened. 

The blonde girl sighed in relief before heading on through, murmuring quietly to her friend behind her, “I thought I stuffed it up for a moment there. Wouldn’t want a repeat of second year, would we?” 

Bethany snorted at the memory before snarking back, “I happened to be very fond of smelling like vinegar for weeks on end.” 

“Think of it this way. That basilisk would never have gone after you smelling like that! I was doing both of us a kindness, a good deed!” 

“Oh, why _thank you_ , Abbott, for being so _thoughtful_!” 

The earthly ground beneath them started upwards until they could see the low hanging ceiling. Hannah went out first, stopping to turn around and give Bethany a hand out, mindful that the girl towered over her by a good three inches and they turned around to be greeted by Beatrice Haywood, one of their house prefects, as she rose from one of the circular wooden tables in the room where she had been sitting with her fellow seventh and sixth year classmates. 

“I was wondering where the two of you had gotten off to,” Beatrice smirked at them both before leaning forward to sniff Bethany and then Hannah, “No vinegar? That’s a change – “ 

Bethany rolled her eyes at the seventh-year girl, her lips pulling up to smirk at her, “Indeed it is. It seems Abbott finally developed a sense of rhythm!” 

Hannah laughed good naturedly before shrugging, “I still say that I was doing us a huge favor – “ 

“By protecting us from the basilisk, yes, yes, you’re the bloody Chosen One,” Bethany nodded sarcastically. 

Beatrice stared at the two fourth years in amusement before nodding towards the wooden doors that led to the girl’s dormitories, “I think it’s time for bed, wouldn’t you say, girls?” 

Hannah gave her a sheepish smile before tugging on Bethany’s hand, but the latter resisted for a moment to tap the badge on the prefect’s robes with a wicked grin, “Prefect suits you, Haywood, but let me know if you ever want a stress reliever – “ 

“ _Oh my god_ , come on!” Hannah groaned, pulling the girl harder while she called over her shoulder, “Have a good night, Bea!” 

“Don’t let her drag you into trouble this year, Hannah!” Beatrice called back with a laugh. 

Bethany held onto the doorway at that comment, gripping the wood tightly under her hands as she shot the seventh-year girl a grin and a wink, “Who says it’s not the other way around?” 

Beatrice and the rest of her friends threw their heads back laughing as the dark skinned girl was pulled from the doorway, the wooden door shutting behind her with a firm thud. The prefect rejoined her friends at the table, sliding her short blonde hair behind her ears as she sighed. 

“Kids, amiright?” 

Cedric Diggory shot her a knowing look before remarking, “You say that as if you didn't act just like them.” 

She winked at him mischievously before sitting back in her wooden chair, a cup of tea warm in her hands as she changed the subject, “So, are you planning to compete, Diggory? Do your part to show your house pride?” 

The boy sighed, his mirth lost for a moment as he shrugged, “My father wants me to. I guess I’ll put my name in.” 

“Hogwarts is a big school, Ced,” Beatrice shrugged, taking a sip of her tea, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky this year.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. If I don't get enough kudos or comments telling me to continue, I'm scrapping it x


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